Somebody Save Me, A Heather Wells Mystery
by Macaulay10
Summary: Story based on Heather Wells Series by Meg Cabot. My version of book #3. Set post Size 14... HeatherCooper
1. Chapter 1

You know what sucks? Having a boyfriend that is a bona fide god in human clothes - I know, you're thinking "and this sucks, why?" Just stick with me - and wishing, with each passing day, that he was someone else. That it was someone else's arms around you. Someone else's laugh in your ear. Someone else's lips on your own. And it especially sucks when you know it was basically that very same someone else's idea that you date the blonde god!

Well, okay, maybe Cooper didn't suggest Tad in particular. But man, did he suggest I date someone. Anyone! Other than him, of course. And I can take a hint. I really can. I don't need a house to fall on my head. He's not interested. And so my days of swooning over someone who's never going to swoon back are over. O-V-E-R!

I walk across the street toward New York College - Fischer Hall in particular - breaking off a piece of my Strawberry Frosted Pop Tart and popping it in my mouth. It's still cold outside and I need a sweater and light jacket. But it's not so cold and snowy anymore that cars aren't out and about, if the honking in my ear as I cross the street is any indication. It's been exactly one month since Cooper told me he didn't want to be my rebound guy. Why, as I walk to my job, am I still thinking about it?

Probably because I kidded myself into thinking - okay hoping - that maybe Cooper wanted me to get myself a "rebound" guy because he wanted more than that with me someday. But I know deep down that that's not it. That can't be it! He didn't want me. Plain and simple. Rebound guy. Ha! Cooper could never be just a rebound guy. Not when I've known him nearly half my life. Not when he's saved my life in about every way possible, so many times, over and over again. Not when he's always been there for me. Not when he's become such a great friend. A best friend. He must be well aware that HE, of all people, could never be a rebound guy. Of all things!

He's unfortunately the love of my life (unfortunate because I - not being five-foot-ten, one hundred and twenty pounds and a rocket scientist slash bathing suit model - am not the love of his life, but just a kid-sister-like pal). Never a rebound. I'm not even sure Tad's a rebound. Maybe I'm not the rebounding type. Or maybe I'm relieved that my relationship with Jordan is finally really over and he's married and has finally stopped bugging me. So there's nothing to rebound. I'm not hurt anymore. From the moment I'd moved into Cooper's brownstone, I'd known that my life would change for the better.

Who rebounds against that?

Well, it could be worse. I guess. I mean Tad really is a nice guy. And he really is godlike. I'm not just saying that. The man's perfect. So really, it so could be worse.

Like I could be dating someone whose career is selling hotdogs on 5th Avenue (not that there's anything wrong with that, I love hotdogs!) and he could have a second family on the side that I don't know about (like in the Pilot's Wife!) and he could turn out to be a serial killer that targets Death Dorm residents and then I'd have to investigate (um, obviously), and eventually I'd be putting my own boyfriend (and all those career aspirations of his) behind bars for life which, let's face it, puts a real damper on a relationship.

So I just have to remember that Tad is great! Tad is second-family-less, and a vegetarian. He's a teacher, too, which says a lot about him. He wants to mold the minds of our future. That's very respectable. Maybe it's not as exciting as, say, investigating crime, but we can't all be investigators. Actually, I think I've proven a couple of times that we can all be investigators, but… well, that's not the point!

What is the point? Just this: the man I love doesn't love me back. So what am I supposed to do? Does it even matter who I'm with or if I don't feel MUCH for him?

"Hey," Tad says, as I walk into my office, seeing said godlike boyfriend sitting in my chair waiting for me. He's smiling. And he really does have a nice smile.

"Tad!" I say, throwing the remainder of my pop tart in the trash can, hoping he didn't see it.

He just smiles. "You don't have to do that," he says, standing up. "We all cheat occasionally."

He looks at me in a way that makes me a little nervous. Why would Tadmake me nervous? Probably just because I've been thinking for the past ten minutes about how I deeply wish our relationship… well, wasn't happening, but that I instead was in one with the man I really love. "On our diets, you mean," I say.

He smiles, stands and kisses me on the cheek. Instead of answering though, he confirms that we have a date later, at Fitness World.

Ah, Fitness World. Treadmills. Bicycles. Elliptical machines. In a word? Hell.

I smile, though, assuring him we're still on. And he leaves.

And for some reason, I just want to cry.

"You're just different with him," Magda explains later, as I sit, drinking water and eating a banana.

"How so?" I ask.

She eyeballs my food and beverage choice.

"Because I've decided to diet? Mags, just so you know, if I ever do decide to let this man see me in all my glory, it's not going to be with all this extra baggage!"

"You never cared before," she points out.

"Well before, I was with the same guy from when I was a fifteen. Then, I was with… oh that's right, no one," I say smartly. "This is my first boyfriend since Jordan. My first boyfriend in my adult life. Pretty much my first boyfriend ever. For some reason, I just feel like Jordan doesn't really count. I was young. I honestly had no idea about anything."

Magda raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine, he counts. But do you see what I mean? This whole thing with Tad, it's nerve-wracking. I don't know what to do. I'm not comfortable with him. I thought slimming down a bit couldn't hurt with the whole feeling sexy and comfortable thing."

"You are sexy, Heather. You had confidence before and that only added to it! Why don't you dump him, if he makes you uncomfortable? Then you can tell Cooper you've gotten the whole rebound thing out of your system," she says, winking and smiling, as if in on a secret.

I decide to let her in on one, though. "Mags. Cooper and me… it's not going to happen. Please stop reminding me of that."

"You should ask him how he feels about all of this," she says, like she thinks differently about this fact. "About you dating Mr. Tad."

"Believe me," I say. "I know how he feels about it."

"I bet if I asked him…"

"You won't! You can't! Mags, promise me you won't say anything to Cooper about any of this. Ever."

She sighs and rolls her eyes dramatically. "Fine," she says with a flick of the wrist. I catch a glimpse of her newest nail design - white stars on red and blue nails, and I smile.

At the end of the day, at least some things stay the same. At least some things can make me smile.

I realize halfway through the day that I've forgotten my workout clothes for Fitness World at home and have to run back to get them. As soon as five o'clock hits, I'm out the door of Fischer Hall, my favorite brownstone my destination.

I miss it these days. Tad keeps asking me to stay over. The funny thing is, attractive as I find him, and new as this is, I just want to go home at night. But I don't. I stay. I want to give my relationship with Tad an honest go. I mean, if I can't have Cooper, isn't Tad a really great consolation prize? Do you know how many women would probably slap me upside the head for having the gall to refer to him, Tad Tocco, as a consolation prize? But to me, that's what he is. But if I didn't even know Cooper, I think I'd be pretty excited at this situation I'm in. This relationship.

So I stay, so many nights, make excuses every time Tad tries to move our relationship to the next level, and I barely sleep. I think of Lucy. I think of my dad, even. And finally, I think of him. Cooper. And sometimes the thoughts ruin sleep for me for the night. But other times, the thoughts comfort me so much, I fall asleep, feeling safe… and for some odd reason, loved.

"H-Hey," Cooper says, when I walk through the door. He looks surprised to see me. And why not? I'm barely around anymore.

"Hi," I say lightly, trying to sound happy. Lucy runs down the stairs and nearly knocks me over, and then proceeds to kiss me all over my face, wet, sloppy kisses. I smile, bending down. Again, I just want to cry. Is it weird to miss my dog this much? But she is so great. She just wants to see me, and wants me to pet her and feed her and let her out to pee. She has such simple goals in life, and the happiness she feels with the accomplishment of each one is so amazing. I wish people could be like Lucy.

I wish that if Cooper did like me, he could just knock me over with kisses the minute I walked through the door. But that's why Cooper is Cooper and Lucy is Lucy.

"I've missed you," I say, trying to keep my emotions in check. I kiss Lucy and rub her ears. She falls to her back so I can rub her belly. I laugh and get right to it.

"She's happy to see you," Cooper says quietly, bending down. He looks at me in that way… like he's studying me.

"I'm happy to see her," I say. And you,I add to myself. I try to stop staring at his perfect face.

The panting on the ground makes it easy to just divert my attention and look at my loving little companion.

"I really miss you," I say again to Lucy. I bend down and kiss her again.

"You okay?" Cooper asks. He can probably tell I'm about ready to start crying. He's always had this strange ability to read me. Although the fact that I'm now sniffling can't possibly hurt. Only an idiot wouldn't know that I was near tears.

"Yeah. I just really miss her."

"You haven't been hom--around much," he says. I look up at him. How I wish I could say what I'm thinking. You know - I'm not around much because you wanted me to date someone else! I'm trying that out, I hate it, and this guy wants me to spend every night with him!

Instead, though, I say, "Yeah. I know. I feel bad… for Lucy. I hope she's not taking it personally! If I could take you with me, I would," I say, staring at Lucy again.

Cooper looks down at Lucy and then at me. Once again, he says nothing that could let me know how he's feeling. Why does he have to be so mysterious? Why doesn't he just tell me things? He straightens up and stares ahead for a long moment. I can see the muscles in his jaw tighten. Finally, he looks down at me. "Yeah, well, I've got to run. Don't forget to lock up."

I laugh at that.

"What?" he says, annoyance flashing in his blue eyes.

"Have I ever forgotten to lock up since I moved in?" I ask.

"As a matter of fact --"

"--Coop, that was one time in my first week here! We had a sit-down discussion, I promised up and down I'd never do that again, and I haven't."

"Well I thought maybe you'd forgotten how to do it, since you're not really in the habit of locking my door anymore," he says coldly.

I stare up at him, shocked. "Our door," I say quietly.

"Right," he says.

And then he's gone.

"Sure, Magda, he's just inches away from telling me he loves me," I whisper to no one.

Lucy sits up and kisses my face, just as I begin to finally cry.


	2. Chapter 2

**Somebody Save Me**

**Chapter 2**

Okay, so I've discovered something about treadmills. Something important. Something I wish someone had told me. You know, someone that works out, I mean. And that is that you should not use them while crying. The combination of having blurry-vision and wiping your runny nose somehow makes you run a little off to the side of the mat you're supposed to run on, a mat that's constantly moving underneath you. And by running to the side of it, you can trip.

And fall.

I sit, rubbing my shins with my hand, glad, actually, for an excuse not to work out anymore. Tad keeps looking over at me, mouthing "are you OK?" And I just nod and smile. He keeps running, turning the volume on his ipod up higher.

As I look around, I see that no one else is crying. Everyone else at the gym seems to have gotten the memo about how it's bad for you and can hurt you. I'm not even sure why I was crying. Why I've been crying pretty much since Cooper walked out the door. At first, I was just frustrated with everything. I mean, I want to be home. I want to be in the constant habit of locking Cooper's door. But at the same time… I want to be with Cooper! I want him to want me. I'm sorry, but it's hard to live with someone that you feel so strongly for! And here I am, not sleeping home, now in a relationship with a gorgeous guy that can run normally on a treadmill, and Cooper doesn't seem to care.

I'd hoped when he saw me there, rubbing Lucy all over, that he'd tell me how much he missed me, that the house was just awful and quiet and boring without me, and that he was beyond jealous of the man I was dating and wanted nothing more than for us to be together forever. And that's when he was supposed to kiss me. Deeply. Is that so much to ask for?

He wasn't supposed to sit there looking at me, saying barely a word and then lecture me about locks. I'm sorry, but that's just not romantic! And it's not very telling either. Of his feelings, I mean.

My little fantasy didn't come true, and I cried. Believe me, no one was as surprised about it as me. When I realized my mom left with all my money, I didn't cry. When I walked in on my fiancée cheating on me with the hot new pop sensation who was basically everything I'm not (or more appropriately, everything I'm not anymore), I didn't cry. So… why the waterworks now?

I managed to get myself under control for when I saw Tad. I just didn't talk much on the way to Fitness World. And that was fine because he had a lot to say on our walk there. I'd managed to stop my eyes from being all red and blotchy, so he had no idea. And that just made me sadder because I knew – I KNEW – that Cooper would've noticed that something about me was off. He sensed it in the hallway before the conversation went so totally wrong. He's just in sync with me in such a comforting, wonderful way. A way that my boyfriend is not. And that's just depressing.

I thought I got all the tears out of my system, though. Until the treadmill. I was just running, minding my own business. But I got bored. Who wouldn't get bored watching the seconds tick by while you stomp stomp stomp your feet, running but not actually MOVING, the scenery with every step staying the exact same? I mean, it's so boring! So to stop the torture, I tried to think about something that would get my mind off the whole running-while-standing-still boredom. And that something ended up being Cooper. My mistake.

When I'd said "our door", he'd looked like he thought of his place, his door, his locks as anything but ours. He'd said "right" with so much doubt, it'd just seemed like he didn't think I lived there anymore. I started thinking about how he'd probably ask me to leave soon. Me and my dad. Hell's Kitchen, here we come! That thought – on top of the ones about Cooper kicking me out – spurred a thought about food. I didn't want to run on a treadmill. I wanted a sandwich. From Joe's Dairy. A mouth orgasm – since I wasn't having the real thing these days. And there you have it. The state of my mind right up to my little treadmill crying jag.

"How're you doing?" Tad asks, wiping his forehead with a towel as he walks up to me, his ipod turned off now. "That looked bad back there. I'd have come over, but I had just gotten up to eight minute miles. It wouldn't have been good to stop."

"I understand," I say. Even though I don't. To me, stopping running is always a good thing. Eight minute miles be damned.

"So you're okay? You looked really upset about it. The fall, I mean."

"I'm not sure why I cried about it," I say apologetically. I'd managed to make him think my tears were a reaction to the fall, instead of the reason for it. "I mean, it's not the first time I've fallen on my face in a public place."

"Yeah, I remember when you fell at the Mall of America performance of 2000," he says. "That was bad. But like always, you got up!"

I can't remember telling Tad about that. He must have Googled me when we first met, I realize.

"So, let's hit the pool next," he says. "That won't hurt your shins, even if they're a little sore right now." He smiles at my hesitation. "Get your suit on and I'll meet you in the water."

I stand in the Ladies Room staring at my bathing suit, scary piece of ugly material it is. I bought it when I joined the gym, thinking a little light swimming might be fun. This was before I met the treadmills and other death vehicles. It's just a cheap, dark green one-piece. My bathing suit, I mean. I take my time putting it on, and then check my reflection out when I'm dressed. I can't believe I'm about to let Tad see my like this, skin hanging out under my arms, material pulling tightly – and unattractively – at the bikini line.

I'm thinking all of these deep thoughts when it happens. Someone screams. I've heard screams like this before. In the past. At Fischer Hall. Right after…

I stand frozen for a moment, my heart drumming fast against my ribs.

The dressing room leads straight to the pool. My destination. Where my boyfriend is swimming laps already. Where someone's screaming bloody murder!

I bolt, throwing open the door, running out into the pool area. I see Tad, sitting over the lifeless form of a young man. A woman is standing a little ways away, shaking. She must have been the one who screamed. Tad looks at me, looking completely shaken.

"I tried to save him, Heather." He looks back at the body. "He was drowning. I tried to save him."

I wrap my arms around myself, beginning to shake. I can't see any more dead bodies in my life. I really can't. It's just too awful. But despite my feelings of remorse, sadness and fear, I can't help thinking one thing as I look at the scene before me.

Great. I've joined Death Gym.

I go home that night. I tell Tad that Lucy needs me. And that's not a complete lie. She does need me. A lot. And I need her. And on the night I've seen a dead body, I also need my bed. My dad. My _home. _I need to know that Cooper's downstairs, even if he does hate me right now. I just… I need to feel safe. Every other time I've been around death, I've gone to Cooper's brownstone at night, and felt safe at night knowing he was downstairs. I need that tonight.

I walk through the front door, thankful Cooper didn't change the locks on me yet. I close the door quietly and sneak into my dad's room. I'm not sure why, but I just don't want Cooper to hear me. If he knows I'm home, he might do it. Kick me out, I mean. Ask me to leave. I'll have to thank him for everything he's done for me, of course. And that'll just be hard, what with all the sobbing I'd undoubtedly be doing when I say it.

"Heather! Hi!" my dad says, putting his flute down. "You've come home!"

I smile. "Yeah. Figured I'd see if things are still the same here." I look at his flute. "I see they are."

He puts the instrument down and comes to take my hand. "We've missed you around here," he says. He lowers his voice and leans in close. "Cooper especially."

I know my dad's just trying to be nice, knowing about my infatuation with Cooper and all, but I still feel butterflies at the possibility that this could be true. "Why do you say that?" I ask.

"He's been moping around. Biting people's heads off for no reason." So it's not just me. "He's darn near impossible to work with right now. It's just obvious," he finishes, shrugging.

"Yes, moping around and being impossible equals missing me," I say rolling my eyes. My dad's obviously never forgotten to lock Cooper's door. Still, it's nice of my dad to say all this. I squeeze his hand back, hoping he understands my appreciation. "Is, um… is he here?"

"Yes," he says. "In his room, working."

"Great," I say. "He won't even know I'm here." Who wants to rush eviction?

After my dad lectures me about how I always avoid issues instead of dealing with them – which is totally true, but not what I need to hear right now – he kisses me goodnight and tells me to sleep home more, so he and I can continue to develop our father and daughter relationship.

I close the door to my room upstairs, as my eyes, once again, fill with tears. What is wrong with me? I'm really not a crier! I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, as I think about flowers and daisies and Lucy, all things which make me happy. I seem to have diverted the tears. For once. God, I'm such a baby these days.

I hear a quiet knock on my door.

"Come in," I say, sitting up, wiping my eyes, figuring it's my dad.

The door opens and Cooper walks in, two forks and a Styrofoam to-go container in his hands. He smiles sheepishly.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi." I'm completely unable to hide my surprise at seeing him in my room. I imagine him in here all the time, but he so rarely actually comes in! And… I didn't think he'd heard me come in. I was so quiet! "Did my dad tell you I was here?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at the doorway, thinking of my traitorous father.

"No," he says. "I… no, he didn't."

We just sit there, looking at each other, as I wonder what's happened to us? We've never NOT had something to say to each other. But it's like everything we have to say to each other right now is stuff we can't actually say. I can't tell him I love him. You know? And he can't seem to be able to say "get out of my house" either, which is a small comfort.

"I got some takeout earlier. Bodega chicken," he explains, walking further into the room. "I didn't have a chance to eat it before, and thought… you might want some."

I just stare at him, shocked. Was he trying to soften me up for the blow? Bodega fried chicken – one of my favorite meals of all time – before the verbal eviction notice? "But it's your dinner" I say lamely.

He sits down, resting his back against my bed. "I'll share. I'd have gotten two, I just wasn't sure you were – "

"—right," I say. "About that… "

"Heather, you don't owe me an explanation," he says quickly, shaking his head. He looks at me.

"Yes, I do. You're right."

"No, I was being stupid before. I'm not sure why I got upset," he says, looking down. He hands me a fork. I take it happily as he opens the container. "But I am sorry."

"Sorry?" I ask. "You're not here to…" I trail off. Why give him ideas? I take a bite of the bodega chicken and close my eyes, savoring the taste. How I'd missed this stuff, since I'd begun dating Tad.

"Here to what?"

Damn. He's so quick with the uptake. "Ask me to move out," I stammer, not making eye contact.

"Ask you to… because we had one disagreement?" he asks, his eyebrows disappearing under all that wavy dark hair. He's clearly shocked. "If you can even call it that," he continues. "We didn't really even talk about anything, let alone disagree. Why would you think I would do that? Ask you to move out."

He's looking into my eyes, his blue-eyed gaze just burning into mine.

"I don't know," I say quietly, trying to will the tears to stay far away. I could feel them creeping up, wanting to come out and play. I was sniffling again. Just great. "I just thought maybe I was starting to annoy you. I thought maybe, being that things are a little different now, you were ready to move on from… from this."

"Heather," he says – sounding delightfully upset that I'd even be thinking this – staring at the bodega chicken before looking once again at me with those piercingly beautiful eyes.

"No, Coop, I would understand. I've been waiting for it since I moved in! I knew this whole situation was too good to be true, and that someday you'd have to tell me to get out; move on; get my own life and my own home."

"This is your home," he says, sounding mad that I wouldn't know that already. "And… not everyone leaves, you know." His expression softens a little. "I know your mom left. And the way she did it was just…" He shakes his head, looking at me like I'd lived through some kind of major tragedy. "And Jordan was the only person you had left that you could trust. And he cheated on you," he says with some disgust. "Believe me; I can understand why you'd have trouble trusting. But I thought… well, I thought you could trust me." He looks at me very seriously and lets out a long, low breath. "Heather, I'm not going anywhere. And I'm not about to ask you to leave, either."

"Not yet. But someday you will," I say softly. Soothingly. He looks so tortured. Why does he look so tortured? I guess because this has been nice. The whole living situation. The idea it'll end upsets me to no end. Is it so hard to believe that he hasn't been enjoying it just as much as I have? That thinking of the end isn't just as awful for him? "I've been dreading it since I moved in. It's inevitable. Things can't stay like this forever," I say miserably. I take another bite of heaven and look at him. "I wish they could, though," I say quietly. "I love living here, with you."

"Me too," he says quietly. Quickly. Genuinely. He looks at me and smiles, showing me that he means that. He must know how insecure I can be. And I feel like my heart's soaring. Honestly. I didn't think people really felt like this. But here I am, heart soaring, feeling totally and completely… content. He takes another bite of the chicken.

"So," he says, his voice markedly lighter. "How's the new relationship? Things seem to be going well." He stares ahead as he asks me this, or at the dish of chicken. He doesn't look at me.

"Tad's, um… good." I say. Being reminded of Tad, though, I automatically put my fork down, feeling guilty for having eaten nearly half of Cooper's dinner. I'd been feeling so good just now, talking with Cooper. It felt like it used to be. Before… well, before Tad. And now suddenly, I feel overcome with negative feelings.

"Don't you want anymore?" Cooper asks, looking at my fork, resting inside the Styrofoam container. "It's your favorite."

"I shouldn't," I say.

He looks really upset at that. Is he offended? I mean, it's not like he cooked it. But he definitely looks really upset. To say the least. He looks like he wants to hit something.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"It's just… " He runs a hand through his dark hair, getting control of his feelings. I wish I could do that. Run my hands through his hair, that is. "If this guy's making you feel like you have to change… "

Then he stops. He sighs. He says nothing. How like him.

"Yes?" I urge him. Maybe he'll tell me he likes me just the way I am, like Mark Darcy told Bridget Jones in the movie version.

He sighs and looks at me. "Heather, don't change for some guy. That's not you. And it's not right."

"So what is me, then?" I ask. "Eating until I can't see straight and going up a size in jeans every six months?"

He shakes his head, fighting the urge to smile. "No. You just… you don't hide your love of a sandwich from Joe's or bodega fried chicken. You don't go to the gym. God, if you ever got on a treadmill, you'd probably fall off of it."

I look at him suspiciously. Had he spied on me and witnessed my little treadmill debacle? No, no. If he had, he would grin in that way - that completely sexy, knowing way that he has. Still. What a thing to say! If I hadn't been crying over him,I'd never have fallen off!

"You savor your favorite foods, yes," he continues, unaware of my internal thought process. "But you walk a couple city blocks when you're trying to save the children of Death Dorm, or get across town, when you've forgotten cab or subway fare. I just… I hate the thought that you'd change it. Any of it. You're perfectly fine. And if this guy doesn't make you feel that way, then maybe you shouldn't be with him," he finally spits out, his voice almost low as a whisper. Again, he's not looking at me.

I nod anyway. It's all I can do. I mean… I don't know what to make of this conversation. Do I say "I could date you instead"? He's kind of just told me he likes me as I am. Very Mark Darcy-like. Only, you know, without the romantic kiss in the snowy streets of London. And because he's Cooper, he did sort of manage to make the whole thing - sweet as it was - sound like a lecture of the self-help variety. You know, "love yourself" and all of that.

Before I can say anything at all, though, my cell phone rings. I grab it and look at the screen. I don't recognize the number. I don't even recognize the area code.

I can tell, though, that Cooper's not enjoying listening to Justin bring sexy back - my new ringtone, if his look of total exasperation is any indication, so I push the talk button.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Heather," a deep, male voice says. "Just so you know, what happened at the pool today wasn't an accident."

My blood runs cold and I stare ahead. "Who's this?" I ask, trying to sound casual. I really don't want Cooper to know anything's wrong.

"I'm not telling," the voice says. "But I will tell you one thing."

I wait.

"You're next."


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you so much for the feedback, Rosie and synthetic confusion!! It means so much! I really hope you enjoy this chapter too!

**Somebody Save Me**

**Chapter 3**

"What's wrong?" I hear Cooper ask.

I stop staring at the phone, and turn my head to see Cooper staring at me… rather intently. "Huh?" is all I manage. But you really can't blame me for not having more to say, or some kind of facial expression because I think I may have just been threatened. Actually, "you're next" when talking about a dead guy means one thing. I've _definitely _just been threatened.

I've never been threatened before! Well, not really. Back when I was Heather Wells: Pop Teen Sensation, I'd received the occasional "your songs suck and make me want to kill you" type of letters, that I found most disturbing, mixed in with the occasional stalker type letters like "I think I love you. Mr. Easy Street better stay away because if I can't have you, no one can." Equally disturbing. But other than that, I've never really been threatened.

Well, okay, if you want to get technical, I guess my old boss did try to kill me a few months ago, when I realized that she was killing girls in my dorm. I mean residence hall. And then after that, I did sort of get mixed in with a frat crowd that wanted nothing more than to decapitate me. But again, that all started because I'd been investigating someone from my hall's murder. Aside from the guy today, there haven't been any murders around me lately. Everyone at Death Dorm - I mean Fischer Hall - is doing just fine, being-among-the-living-wise. So why would someone want to kill me? Oh god, was that guy that drowned today a warning to _me? _Oh, god, oh god…

"Heather, tell me what happened." Cooper's no longer resting his back casually against my bed. He's turned to face me completely and is resting on his heels, his elbows on the top of my bed. He's looking at me expectantly.

I open my mouth to tell him everything, but… can't. I'm not sure why. Normally when Cooper uses that calm, authoritative tone, I spill everything out. I'm pretty sure I would tell him my weight, pants' size and favorite color when he uses that tone, if he really wanted to know it.

Why can't I tell Cooper about the phone call? Or about the guy at the pool today? I tell Cooper everything! Well, almost everything. I still haven't told him about that time his brother and I had farewell sex (let's face it, that 's what it was) on his hallway runner. Cooper's hallway runner, I mean.

And I know if I tell Cooper this, he'll do what he always does. He'll make me feel like everything will be okay; he'll make me feel like he'll protect me somehow. Which would be great, except…

"Heather, don't even think about not telling me," he says, shaking his head, his pale blue eyes piercing through me, never leaving mine. "Something's wrong. What is it?" he asks, and I can hear the impatience in his voice.

"What makes you think something's wrong?" I ask, my voice still a little weak.

"You didn't seem to know who just called you, you've gone white as a ghost, and you can't talk, which for you could only mean that something's wrong," he says.

"I could just have nothing to say!" I say defensively.

"You never have nothing to say," he argues, pulling the phone out of my hand. 

"What are you doing? That's my phone!"

Too late. He's stood up, and he's way too tall for me to stand a chance. Unless…

I stand on my mattress and reach for the phone, which he's now got up to his ear. He obviously found my last received call and hit the little green phone button. Standing on the mattress, I'm now taller than Cooper and stand a better chance at retrieving the phone, except that he's rolling his eyes for me, smirking a little, and backing away. I reach still… and almost fall off the bed onto my face. But he reaches out to catch me, and my feet land perfectly planted on the ground. One of Cooper's large hands is firmly holding both of my wrists. Firmly, yet… completely gently. And I feel electricity pass through us as I stare up into his face. He furrows his brows and ends the call, looking down at me.

He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it and quietly clears his throat as he looks into my eyes. I try to tell him, through Vulcan mind control, to bend down and lay one on me. A romantic kiss, I mean. But instead he lets go of my wrists like they've burned him or something, and he takes a half-step back.

"Pay phone," he says, handing my cell back to me.

"Oh," I say, shrugging, trying to focus on the threat, and not Cooper not kissing me. "Um, did it say where the payphone was located?" I ask, casually.

"The area code is Jersey," he says, crossing his arms, looking at me knowingly. He knows I'm scared. Like I said, he's got the uncanny ability to read me. Well that, and I'm sure my eyes are the size of saucers right now, because, well… New Jersey's kind of close. I was hoping the guy had called me from Guadalajara or somewhere really far away. Not New Jersey!

"Who was it? What did they say?" Cooper asks. "Heather?" Cooper presses, when I say nothing.

"I'm not sure who it was. It was a guy. He sounded creepy. And he said I'm next," I say, all in a rush.

"You're next?" he asks. "For what?"

" To serve dinner to the homeless down the street on Saturday," I say sarcastically. "How should I know?"

"So… that's it? Some _creepy_ guy told you that you were next?" he says, saying the word 'creepy' in a way that I can only assume is poking fun at me. And that's… well, it's just not what I need right now.

I already don't want to tell him about guy at the pool, not that I know why I don't want to tell him. Maybe because our relationship is so different right now. I feel like because of my relationship with Tad, Cooper and I are more distant. Yet right before the phone call from the creepy guy, it felt like we were closer than ever before. He was actually communicating with me! Sure, it felt like he was giving me the kind of lecture that a big brother might give to a little sister, and that's probably exactly how he thinks of me. But I can't deny the excitement I felt when he said those nice things, because it showed me… well, how much he really cares.

Now's not the time to ruin it all by telling him that someone wants me dead. That'll accomplish two things only. Everything about communicating actual feelings will get put on the backburner (possibly forever) because we'll have to focus on finding my mystery phone man slash psycho killer. And he'll undoubtedly realize that I'm a high risk girl, as this would be the third time this year someone's tried to kill me. And who wants to date a high-risk girl? Giving your heart to someone else is scary enough. Thinking constantly that that person's head might turn up at dinner without her body is a whole other ballgame.

I look at him and see that he's smiling. Not a big smile; the kind I see when he laughs. But a warm smile, like he's onto me. He knows I'm having some kind of inner struggle, like a person with multiple personalities.

"Yes," I say, finally. "That's it. I'm just a big baby, because someone called me and sounded totally creepy, and I'm sorry, but the words 'you're next' are a little freaky. Especially if you happened to watch _I Know What You Did Last Summer _with some of the sophomores in the residence hall last week."

I can't look at him. I hate lying to Cooper. And I know - I'm not stupid - that Cooper will find out everything eventually. But… not tonight. I've dealt with enough tonight.

His smile fades, though, and he takes another step toward me. "Is that really everything, Heather?" he asks, seriously.

"Yes," I spit out, still not looking at him.

"Look," he says, "I'm sure it was a crank. That happens all the time in this city."

"I'm sure you're right," I say. Although I know he's wrong. God, why and I such a spaz, that I can't just tell him the whole story? And… they're coming. The tears, I mean. I managed to fight them off the whole time Cooper's been in my room. And now they want to fall?

"Okay, well, I'll let you go to bed," he says.

"Okay," I say, my voice shaky.

I can't be sure, because I'm not looking at him, but I swear I see his hand approach my face, nearly touching the skin on my cheek. But at the last possible moment, it's gone. I look at him. His hands are both by his side and he's looking at my kind of… well, sympathetically.

"I'm sorry for making fun of you," he says genuinely. "But you really have nothing to be afraid of. Okay?"

I nod.

"Okay," he says. "I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

And then he leaves. I glance outside my windows quickly, just to be sure the Jersey Freak couldn't have gotten into the City super quickly and now stands outside my window with a knife or a chainsaw or something. There's nothing there. I release a long breath and crawl into bed, thinking one thing.

"Cooper's wrong. I have everything to be afraid of."

When you're living on potentially borrowed time, you try to really make every moment last, which is why I gave myself an extra half-hour to sit with Magda and eat my breakfast. She was pleased to see me choose the classic bagel and cream cheese with bacon as well as coffee and cocoa concoction this morning.

"This is more like you," she says. "What changed? Did you break up with Tad? Did you make out with Cooper last night? Both? What happened?"

I roll my eyes at her. "I just think that we should all do what makes us happy. After all, you only live once," I say happily.

"Oh god, someone wants you dead again," she says, holding a patriotically-nailed hand to her chest dramatically.

"Mags, why do you always assume I'm a target for killers?"

"You usually are," she points out, a perfectly-shaped eyebrow arched knowingly. "So, I'm wrong?" she asks hopefully, when I say nothing.

I open my mouth to lie. Why am I lying to Magda and Cooper, two of the most important people in my life? What's with me? Do I want the killer to get me or something? No! I want to live!

"I'm right!" she says, horrified! "Heather, what happened?"

I tell her, in a rush, everything. I tell her about the guy at the pool, and about my conversation with Cooper and how upset he got when I put my fork down, and how he told me I shouldn't be with Tad, basically, to which she added, excitedly:

"Because you should be with him, instead!"

"He didn't say that. I just think he's a little protective, as always. He doesn't want me with some guy that wants me to change," I say. Even though I hope to all higher powers that Magda is right, and that's what Cooper meant, on some level.

I proceed to tell her about the phone call, and about how I lied to Cooper afterwards.

"Heather, you do realize that you're stupid, right?" she asks, when I'm done.

"Well, now, that's a bit harsh!" 

"You live with a trained PI, who's also in love with you - even if just from afar, so far --"

"He's not in love with me," I stammer.

"Well, he cares about you. A _lot. _Although-I-think-he's-in-love-with-you," she says in a rush, connecting her words. "He'd want to know, investigate and keep you safe. But for starters, he'd definitely want to know. Oh, Heather, he's going to be so mad when he figures out you lied," she says in her best "tsk tsk" voice.

"I'll tell him the truth later," I say, getting up. "I promise."

I leave and head back to my office. I don't know what to do to keep busy. My mind's a mess. The tiniest noise has me jumping out of my seat. I quickly grab the mail in my inbox and begin sorting through it.

I open a few letters from disgruntled parents, as well as our Finance Department (looking for an explanation for how my stop at Joe's Dairy last month was somehow work related and needed petty cash - oops.)

I open another letter that I assume is another Angry Parent, but discover, to my abject horror, is not:

_Dear Heather,_

_Nice chatting with you last night. I still have my poster of you in that blue leopard print mini skirt hanging on my bedroom wall. God, you look so hot. You've kind of let yourself go a little, huh? Although, even though you've put on weight, you still are quite beautiful… there's just more of you now. But don't worry - you can be thin again, it's never too late for a Sugar Rush, my sweets. _

_And do remember, if I can't have you, no one can._

_Love,_

_Your One & Only._

I flip the page over, looking for more. Something to lead me to this guy; to catch him. He's clearly an obsessed fan. I find myself wondering, quite disturbingly, if I ought to be flattered that I still have an obsessed fan somewhere out there.

But re-reading the letter, I decide that I can go without a freak like this being out there in the world, any day. Who could possibly still be obsessed with _me_? It's absurd! I'm so yesterday's news. And I don't do music anymore. The papers don't write stories about me. I am completely uninteresting and normal now. Why go through the trouble of stalking me? Like I said, I had stalkers back in the day. But now? Definitely absurd.

I look at the postmark. Of course. New Jersey. Where else? This creep had to have sent this to me before our phone conversation.

None of this added up. How could he know where I work, what my cell phone number is, and that I'd be a Fitness World - in the pool, specifically - at that precise time?

"Hey, babe."

I look up and see Tad standing in front of my desk and jump, gasping. I hadn't heard him come in! "Oh! Tad!"

"Who else would call you 'Babe'?" he asks.

"Someday I hope that Cooper does," I think. But I don't say that. It'd probably be rude.

"Everything okay?" he asks, when I say nothing. "You seem… jumpy."

I nod. "Fine. Just one of those days, you know?"

"Yeah. I know how you feel. How absolutely _awful _was yesterday? I couldn't sleep all night," he says. He still looks visibly shaken. I remember how pale he looked sitting over the prone, lifeless body. He was probably more upset about it than I was. If he knew that the guy was murdered as a threat to his girlfriend, that might throw him over the edge. And, of course, he might dump me, running in the other direction. Which wouldn't exactly break my heart, I have to say…

"I brought you this," he says, holding a banana toward me. "We'll hit Fitness World again later. No need for a little drowning to hold us back from getting in shape." Except he's already in shape. Clearly he means me. "Oh, and I also have this for you," he says.

He hands me a piece of paper. "A gig?" I ask, reading its contents.

"Yeah. I figure you can slowly get back in the limelight with small gigs. Playing your own awesome songs."

Something about a grown man saying awesome is just so not… awesome. "Listen, Tad. We should talk." I put the banana down and look at him. It's breakup time. And not a moment too soon.

"Actually I have class," he says, smiling. He has no idea what I want to talk about obviously. "See you later, Babe," he says, running out of the room.

"Yeah, maybe," I say quietly.

I breathe, wondering what I'm going to do about him. What do I say? "I hate how you make me eat bananas and drink water and fall off treadmills at awful gyms?" Well, I'll figure out something.

I glance at the letter staring at me from my desk and grab the phone. I should have done this last night. I dial Cooper's cell phone and wait. I hear ringing in my ear… and in the hall outside the office.

I stare at the phone for a second, hearing the ringing in my ear, now right outside my office door.

Cooper himself walks in, looking at his phone, and then at me.

"I was just calling you! We need to talk," I say.

"I was just going to say the exact same thing," he says. He looks mad.

Oh god… what did I do now? I think a killer's enough for any girl to have to handle in one day.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you for the reviews!!!!!! I hope you enjoy the next installment :)

**Chapter 4**

You know how when some people are mad, you can see a vein pop out in their forehead? Or their nostrils flare? Or they clench their fists? Or yell? Well, Cooper is not one of these people. He does none of these things. Much like with every other emotion with Cooper, it's really hard to tell if he's angry. But having made him angry often enough, I now know the signs. Or sign, rather.

He's a jaw-clencher. Yeah. He gets this serious look – about as unreadable and mysterious as all his looks – and he tightens his jaw. And… well, that's it! That's Cooper mad. This doesn't seem bad, right? Wrong. When Cooper does this, I want to run and hide (and rip all his clothes off, because he looks so sexy when he's mad… but that's hard, what with my initial reaction being to run and hide and all).

I look at him as he stares at me. He's waiting for me to say something. But he's the one who came barging into my office. He's the one who mentioned something about saying he was just about to say the exact same thing to me! The exact same thing being that "we need to talk." Once again… four of the most awful words in the English language, when strewn together like that. Because unless he wants to talk about how it was high time we made out, I'm not sure I want to hear what he has to say!

But still I say, cautiously, "you go first."

"Well," he starts, putting his hands in his pockets. Oh yes. That's another thing he does when he's mad. He puts his hands in his pockets. Maybe that's where he clenches his fists. "I was just out and about, doing my job—"

"Where were you? What were you doing?" I ask in what I hope is a sweetly curious way. When he looks at me kind of murderously, I shrug and say innocently, "I just wanted to paint a picture of the scene as you talk."

He chooses to barrel on and ignore me. He takes a deep breath. "My cell phone rings and it's a friend of mine from the NYPD. He tells me he thought I'd be interested to know about this man that drowned at a pool yesterday afternoon at Fitness World."

He looks at me pointedly and I immediately look at my hands, examining each nail carefully. How annoying he has all these connections! A girl can't keep a secret from her roommate and would-be-boyfriend anymore.

"And you know," he continues, "I'm wondering why on earth I'd be interested in hearing about a guy drowning. Do _you _know why I'd be interested in this?"

I can see he can barely contain his anger, and I'm starting to wonder why's he so upset! I was just about tell him the whole story (not that he knows that, but still).

"He thought I'd be interested in the list of witnesses at the scene. One witness actually. One _Heather Wells_," he says, finishing in a huff. His look softens just a bit as he shakes his head disbelievingly. "Why didn't you tell me about this last night?"

"I… I don't know. I just didn't want to think about it," I say lamely. "It was pretty awful, and I just wanted to forget about it for a little while."

"I'm having a bit of déjà vu. People dying, somehow _you're _there in the middle of the action—"

"—I wouldn't exactly call me seeing a man _after _he's died action—"

"—and you're withholding things from me. I knew it last night. You weren't telling me the whole story. You weren't telling me anything. Then I get this call today and I get this feeling. Something's wrong and you're not telling me. Something's been wrong for awhile and you've got me at arm's length. Dammit, Heather," he says, nearly whispering, shaking his head again, looking at the ground. He slowly lifts his gaze back up and catches mine. "I hate when you lie to me."

"Why?" I ask.

_What am I doing? What am I doing?_

"What do you mean, 'why'?" he asks.

"I can't lie to you? Or withhold information from you? Simply omit parts of my day?"

_Oh god, someone shut me up. Now! This is my future boyfriend and I'm so going to ruin it._

But the fact is, I saw a man die, I've been threatened, I'm dating a man I really don't like, the man I do like is yelling at me in such a hypocritical way… I just can't handle it! I want a hug. Not a lecture! Can't he ever just _give me a hug?_

"I just don't understand," I continue, because no one has come forward to shut me up, "why you're so upset. I was going to tell you. I was. But… it's not fair, Coop! You have these double standards when it comes to our relationship. I have to be completely forthcoming and honest, whilst I have no clue what you do all day! Are you in danger? Why do you know a drycleaner that's great with bloodstains? Have you been hurt before?" I ask, my voice shaking. This has been on my mind since after that first… well, investigation as I think of it.

He just stares at me, once again – a completely unreadable expression on his face. Although he's doing the jaw-thing. He's mad. That I can tell.

"How many people have _you _ever seen dead? When was the last time you saw someone croak? What was your first investigation? What made you want to be a detective? Where do _you_ spend your nights when you're not home? I know there _are _nights… but I don't ask. And I certainly don't give you attitude about it.."

_Please someone. I'm on a roll, but it's not a good roll to be on. SHUT ME UP!_

"I know. You're going to say that I have no one. That you feel like you have to protect me. That you just worry about me. But you don't have anyone either! And newsflash – I do worry about you! All the time, as a matter of fact. But I try not to think about it, because I know wild horses couldn't drag some small fact, that I'm dying to know about you, out of you!"

I finish and realize that at some point in my tirade, I stood up. I'm practically nose-to-nose with the man. Close enough to kiss. But… well the moment doesn't seem exactly right. Kisses borne from passionate arguments are great in the movies. But with Cooper… I kind of want our first kiss to happen when we're not at each other's throats. I want it to happen when we're in the middle of laughing or sharing bodega chicken or something. Something natural. Something great. Something _us._

"You want me to tell _you _about my cases?" he asks, raising his eyebrows, looking at me with some amusement. "Heather, you'd probably get involved and make my work that much more complicated. I'd be trying to solve a case, but I'd have to stop to save your life. Again."

I flinch at that last word. He makes saving my life sound like a hassle. When he came up the elevator shaft to save me, when he ran out onto the balcony, when he saw Doug Winer and his crew get taken away and realized I was safe… well, it kind of felt like I mattered to him. A lot. Like more than a friend. Okay, maybe a best friend and not a girl friend. But either way, what I saw in his eyes in those moments was amazing. But I've been just kidding myself. He feels saddled with the responsibility that is his little brother's poor ex-girlfriend who one day realized she has nothing. And he _does _have a Superman complex.

That's it. I'm just a cause. A cry to Superman.

He glances up, pleadingly, at the ceiling, and I can see it. He wants to bolt. This isn't how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to just say, "I'm sorry, Cooper, I should've told you everything." And okay, I probably _should've _told him everything. But I do feel that it's some kind of double standard. And, much as I hate fighting with him, of all people, I am happy I said what I said.

"Heather," he says, finally. But then his phone rings. He grabs it and looks like he wants to throw it. He groans and looks at me, kind of desperately.

I gesture weakly for him to take the call, and I sit back down. He walks into the hallway. I stare at the letter. Something about the letter feels very familiar to me. Very odd. Very off. I re-read it, wracking my brain for some clue.

The guy's from New Jersey. He's stalking me.

Ladies and Gentlemen: Heather Wells, Detective at Large.

"I've got to go," Cooper says, reappearing in the office.

"Uh, okay," I say, holding the letter, thinking how if I had just kept my mouth shut, Cooper would know about the letter and the full details of the phone call and we'd be halfway done solving the crime!

"We'll finish this later," he says, before turning on his heel and leaving quickly.

_Oh, goodie! _

I sigh. I don't want to move. I'm rooted to the spot in fear, a letter threatening my life in my hands and a voice as cold as ice playing on an endless loop echoing in my mind. I just want to go home. But… Cooper's gone. He's really gone. I've all but ruined any chances we had. I mean, I completely lashed out at him when he came to show me concern! I think. I'm not sure exactly why he came. I never really did give him the chance to say much.

All I know is… Cooper was my safety blanket. He's been ripped away by… well, by me. And now, I'm cold and scared and I want to go home.

When the day ends – what seems like an eternity later – however, I head to Tad's. I don't want to be home. The idea of being in the company of a strong, muscular man is _very appealing_ right now, what with my paralyzing fear and all, and I still have to break up with him. No time like the present right?

Wrong.

Tad never lets me talk. I put my head back against the back of a rocking chair and rock quietly while he goes on and on about how I can really make it again. Make the ultimate comeback in music! I can lose weight and come out a new artist, with my own material, looking all "hot and bothered" because of how the man got me down…

I decide not to break up with him. Don't ask me why. I can't stay and listen to him talk about a workout routine or gigs in the area anymore, so I tell him I have to go home. I just can't be there anymore.

So I leave. I can't go home, of course. So I decide to take a little walk. I think about my whole nightmare day. Well my two nightmare days, with the one bright spot of sharing takeout with Cooper while he tells me that his home is my home, and that he's not asking me to leave, that I'm perfectly fine and shouldn't be with Tad. Those thoughts comfort me. Those thoughts keep me warm. Those thoughts…

… get me lost.

I realize I've walked too far. I look around. Nothing familiar.

I take out my cell phone. Dead. Damn, I forgot to charge it at work. I take out my wallet. No money. Damn, I forgot to go to the ATM. But I _have _had other things on my mind! Like… the killer that wants me dead.

_Oh god._

I'm on a weird street, I'm lost, with no money or phone… and a killer's after me.

In a panic, I start running.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

How can someone that's lived in New York City as long as I have get _lost? _I stop running, leaning over, resting my hands on my knees and catching my breath. I look up at the sign, only to realize that _yup, that's what I am… lost. _I mean, who's ever heard of Ivy Avenue? Where is that? Where am I? How far away is my stalker/psycho/killer?

At that thought, I look around. Why do I feel like every guy is looking at me? No one ever looks at me! I don't think. I guess I don't notice. But right now it's creepy. Or maybe I'm paranoid. Or maybe they're looking because I'm looking at them. Either way, when a tall man steps out of some shadows and stares at me – a creepy looking man that totally looks like the words "if I can't have you, no one can" would sound normal coming from him, I immediately turn, open a door at this corner diner, hoping for safety. The place is crowded enough, and I do remember hearing somewhere that crowded places are good places to go when you don't want to be murdered, or something like that.

"Just seat yourself," a waitress says, as she walks by with a tray.

I go and sit down, wondering how long it will be until they ask me to leave since, you know, I don't have any money.

"Can I help you?" the same waitress asks, walking back over and pulling a pen and pad from her back pocket.

"I… I just got a little lost outside. I don't have any money, but I needed to… to sit down," I stammer.

She sighs, but still looks sympathetic. "I'll get you a water," she says, walking away.

I take off my coat and look at the clock on the wall. Oh boy. It's late. It's nearly ten at night. I left Tad's apartment at eight-thirty. I guess time just got away from me when I'd been aimlessly walking, thinking about Cooper. Cooper… I hadn't seen him all day.

God, I really hate fighting with him. I hate when he's mad at me. I hate when he doesn't tell me things. I hate lying to him. I hate not _being _with him. I feel like we're practically dating right now anyway, only, you know, without any of the fun stuff. We fight like an old married couple. But we also get along that way too – we're that in sync. And I know we only fight because we care. About each other, I mean. I care what he thinks, and I get upset when he's mad. He gets mad when he's worried. I've noticed that. Although lately he gets mad for more reasons than that. But I have no idea what it all means. I don't think he's jealous that I'm in a relationship. He's just… more mad at me lately.

With a sinking feeling, I realize he'll probably _really _ask me to leave now. I've done enough. Put him through enough. He gave me a place to stay when I had nowhere to go, he doesn't charge me rent, and he often buys me food! He'll show up at work and _bring _me food! And what do I do to repay him? I yell at him. I tell him that our relationship isn't fair – I mean, who am I to tell him that, after everything he's done for me? I lie to him, let's not forget that! And I'm not sure why. Surely, it's better when Cooper just knows the truth.

Why do I always ruin things when it comes to Cooper? He's the one person I care about the most, and want things to work out with.

"Here you go," the waitress says, bringing me water and dropping four quarters on the table, as well.

"What's this?" I ask, astonished.

"It's just a little from my tips. It's no big deal," she says, shrugging. "But you're lost. I figured maybe you want to call someone to come get you."

She's young. Barely twenty, I'd say, from experience, being surrounded by girls eighteen-to-twenty-two all day long. I look at her nametag. _Betsy._

"Thank you, Betsy," I say sincerely.

She smiles, seeming glad she's done something nice for someone. "You're welcome," she says.

"Can you do me one more favor?" I ask. "Give me a business card for this place, and your hours, so I can come back sometime, _with _money. I'm a good tipper," I explain, "not normally taking money _from _my waitress," I say, with a wink.

She laughs. "I'll be right back."

A little while later, I'm checking the messages on my cell phone. That somehow seems like a better idea than looking for a ride right now, since I'm not exactly sure who I'd call right now.

I smile as the first message starts playing. It's Cooper. I can barely hear him; it sounds like he's screaming over traffic or something.

"Heather, it's about five… " he trails off for a moment. "We really do need to talk. I'm not… sure where you're going to be tonight. But… give me a call when you get out of work."

Then he hangs up. The next message is from Tad.

"Hey babe. You left in a hurry. Didn't you get milk yet?" Oh, right, I told him I was going out for milk, since he didn't have any. "Call me."

The next: Cooper.

"Heather, it's almost ten. I haven't heard from you and now Tad's leaving messages on the home phone, wondering if you came here. I assumed you were with him so… I'm just wondering where you are."

He sounded a little on edge. A little nervous. _Oh! He cares! _Even after we're fought!

Again, Tad:

"Heather, babe, I'm nervous now. You never came back. I called your house and you're not there and that Cooper, he's a real piece of work. He interrogated me, I mean actually _interrogated me _about where you were, and when I last saw you! Please call me, babe."

My messages were a ping-pong tournament between my boyfriend and my "I wish." So I wasn't surprised to hear one last one from, yup… Cooper.

"Heather." He sounds really nervous. I feel bad now. The happiness about him caring has turned to guilt. "I just talked to Magda. She told me about your phone call last night." I hear him take a deep breath. "Patty and Frank haven't heard from you. You're not at Tad's. Please call me."

_End of messages._

I stick a quarter in the phone and make another phone call. Of the two men I received all my messages from, can you guess who I actually called?

"Cooper?" I say, when he answers (on the first ring).

"Where are you?" he immediately asks, after a sigh of what I can only hope was relief.

"I'm at a place called _Dinah's Diner. _It's on Ivy Avenue."

"Where's that?"

"I don't know," I say quickly. "Um… I left Tad's and took a walk and… well, I got lost."

"You just walked around by yourself, after being threatened?" he asks.

Great, he's back to getting mad at me.

"I just needed air."

"Why? Did he… did Tad do something to upset you?" he asks. I can hear something in his voice that's sort of… defensive. Of me. I like it.

I smile. "Nothing I can't handle," I say. "But, can you come and get me?"

"I'm in the car now," he answers. "Give me the address and I'll just put it in the GPS."

A half hour later, I see his car pull up and I go outside, not before thanking Betsy one last time.

"This isn't the best area," Cooper says, once I've shut the door. He takes off immediately.

I feel like crying again and I'm not sure why. It just seems like I can't do anything right these days. I'm so happy to see Cooper, and I was sort of hoping he'd tell me how nervous he was for my safety and admit that he loves me. But it just seems like he wants to lecture me again.

I see him look sideways at me.

"Are you okay?" he asks, keeping his eyes on the road.

"I guess," I say, shrugging. But I can't stop them. The tears, I mean. One escapes my eye, and I quickly swipe it away. I'm really _not _a crier! I am not sure what's wrong with me these days!

"Heather," Cooper says quietly. "I'm sorry about before. I keep getting mad at you, and you don't need that. And… you're right. I _do_ expect you to tell me everything, even though I don't tell you everything."

I stare at streetlights and the yellow lines on the road, as they disappear under the car with every mile.

"It's okay," I say. Even though it's not. Okay, I mean.

"It's not. I'm glad you told me how you felt," he says. He still doesn't turn toward me. "But understand, Heather, I keep you in the dark because I know how you get. You get curious. You want to help. And I do know that you worry about me. I know you care. That just makes it worse. I know you'd start poking around my cases in an effort to help. And they're really not… _dangerous _cases. But I wouldn't want you involved all the same. I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

I realize he's right. I would poke my nose around his cases if I knew about them. I would try to help him. And if he wasn't home, and wasn't answering his phone and I knew where he was – what case he was working on – I'd go looking for him, and probably mess up everything in the process. And, yes, I'd probably end up in danger too, even on the non-dangerous cases. Because of what I am. You know. High risk, and all.

"I know we both don't really have many people in our lives, Heather," he continues. "I used to say that about you, and you've never ceased to point out my own more or less family-less situation. But… whether you think so or not, it _is _different. I walked away from my family. You had your mom and she walked away from you. My brother walked away from you."

_Ouch. _I hope he never decides to work a suicide hotline.

"I… care about you," he admits, tripping a bit over the word "care" in a way that's both awkward and just so nice. "It's why I asked you to move in with me. And you have to admit, you're a little naïve. A little too trusting. And I think it's great how much you care about others, that you'd risk your own life to make sure others aren't killed or killers are brought to justice, and I know I can be the same way and all, but… well, it still makes me crazy sometimes. Your ability to get right in the middle of the worst possible situations, your total disregard for your own safety, your insatiable curiosity… it does. It makes me crazy. I don't want to see you get hurt, but you are always walking into dangerous situations. And half the time you _know_ they're dangerous! But you still go! And then half the time you're not telling me about them, when I can help you."

"Or talk me out of it," I point out.

"Well, yes, that, too. Although I know you'd never listen. You never do," he says, and I could swear he's smiling. "I'm not sure we're going to agree on the argument from before. Because you are right. But… while I can try to tell you the occasional detail about my day, I'm never going to tell you everything. And yet… I do want you to tell me when something's up. When you're upset or when someone's threatened you or you've witnessed a death. I don't need to sit and wait for an ulcer to form, because Magda's just told me that the guy who called you last night wasn't a crank, but knew you and threatened to kill you, and I have no idea where you are. I just know you're not anywhere that you could or should be. I don't… it doesn't…"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. My phone was dead."

"It's okay," he says. "But I just don't want to hear this from Magda. I want to hear it from you. I don't think you understand what it feels like finding out that your… good friend… is kind of missing and you've only found out she's got someone walking around that wants her dead."

"I don't exactly know how that feels. No. Okay. So in the future, I will tell you things," I agree. "Even though I still don't think it's fair, this double-standard relationship we have. I want the same things you want, Coop. It's not fair you should get them."

"I'll work on it," he says. And I kind of believe he might actually. "So," he says, before looking at me quickly, for the first time since I got in the car. "What did he really say last night?"

I immediately know what he means. The phone call. "He did say 'you're next'. That wasn't a lie," I say in a rush. "But he also said 'Hi _Heather. _And that the accident at the pool wasn't an accident."

"Followed by 'you're next'," he finishes. "Why would someone want you dead? Is there something you aren't telling me? Something you've been looking into on your own again?"

"No," I say honestly. "Everyone at Death – uh, Fischer Hall – is totally fine! I'm just going about my life, trying to figure it out, but just figuring out it sucks lately," I say.

_Can someone shut me up again? I'm saying too much. Again._

"Why's that?" Cooper asks quietly. I notice his hands tighten on the wheel, but he keeps his gaze forward.

"I'm just unhappy with my, uh… situation."

"Tad?" he asks quickly, almost like Tad's name is poison, by the way he says and the look I can see on his face after he says it.

"Yeah, that, too. He… well, you're right. He does want me to change. He seems to want me to be Heather Wells: Pop Sensation. Not… well, not _me. _Not the me I am now. You know?"

"Yeah," he says.

"I'm going to end it soon, though," I say. I want to change the subject. We talk about Tad much longer, and I might start saying too much again, asking him if we can date now that rebound guy's almost totally flung back where he belongs. "There's more," I say, grabbing the note out of my pocketbook.

"About Tad? If he's done something –"

"No, no, I mean about the guy that's threatening me. I got a note today?"

"What?" 

"Right before you came to my office. It's postmarked Jersey, too."

He nods and takes a deep breath. "This isn't good, Heather." He stares solemnly at the road, as I grip the note in my hands. He's right. I have tried not to really dwell on this threat, but if Cooper's nervous, I should be jumping out of my skin right now.

"Well?" Cooper says, and I jump. Out of my skin. See? Now I'm acting the way I should. Freaked.

In one swift moment, he grabs my left hand and squeezes it in a comforting way. "Sorry," he says. "Didn't mean to scare you. We are going to figure this out, though." Then he moves his hand away. Once again, the moment's both awkward and nice. And I do feel a good deal safer. Although I wish he hadn't pulled his hand away. I guess he does need both for driving, though. His hands, I mean. "Can you read it to me?"

I turn on the passenger light and look down at the note, a sinking feeling returning to my gut. "Sure."

"_Dear Heather," _I start, nervously. "_Nice chatting with you last night. I still have my poster of you in that blue leopard print mini skirt hanging on my bedroom wall. God, you look so hot. You've kind of let yourself go a little, huh? Although, even though you've put on weight, you still are quite beautiful… there's just more of you now. But don't worry - you can be thin again, it's never too late for a Sugar Rush, my sweets. And do remember, if I can't have you, no one can."_

My cheeks are on fire. I mean who wants to let the guy she likes see a letter that someone wrote to you where they basically tell you you're fat? I'm not sure what Cooper thinks about my looks, but I really don't want to give him ideas, or let him know one of the less-flattering opinions that seems to be floating around out there.

I sneak a quick glance at Cooper. Ooh, big-time jaw-clenching. He's mad. He's pissed! It's… he really does worry about me. And I really do love him.

"Is it signed?" he asks tersely.

"_Love, Your One & Only,_" I say, in a pseudo-romantic voice, in hopes to lighten the mood.

I hear him curse under his breath. "Okay," he says, frustratingly, sighing. "So he knows where you work, if you got the letter there. He knows your cell number. And he knew you'd be at Fitness World."

"That's the list I came up with this afternoon, too," I say, in hopes he might still sit down and let realization dawn that we really would be great partners! I can detect things, just like him!

"Maybe someone you know?" he asks, although I'm not sure we're detecting together anymore. He's kind of mumbling to himself now.

"I thought… well… nevermind," I say, since he'd probably think I was nuts. And he's never thought of me as much of a detective.

"No, what? Tell me," he says.

"An old stalker? I used to receive letters like this – well kind of like this – all the time. It's familiar because of that _that. _But I feel like maybe this guy's stalked me before, because something here seems _really _familiar."

Cooper stills and tightens his grip on the wheel again.

"What?" I ask him. "Cooper?" I prompt, when he says nothing for a moment.

"I think I know who it is."


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for the feedback!! I really appreciate it!!!!!! -----Mac**

**Chapter 6**

When someone says "I think I know who it is" to you, in reference to someone that's kind of threatened to kill you ("kind of" meaning definitely), it can be really frustrating when that person won't, you know, tell you who they're talking about. Because that's what Cooper's decided to do. Say "I think I know who it is"… and then nothing more!

"Cooper. Who?" I ask, impatiently, for the tenth time.

"I told you, I'll just show you," he says again.

He's clenching his jaw more now than he was a minute ago, which of course only adds to my curiosity.

"You're going to show me?" I ask. I look at the road and sigh. "Coop, I'm not sure I'm really up to par for meeting this guy tonight."

He laughs quietly – quickly – and peeks sideways at me. "If you think I'd ever take you purposely to see a guy that's been threatening to kill you, you don't know me very well."

I say nothing, but silently agree. Cooper _would_ never do that. But what could he mean, show me? "Where are we going, then?" I ask.

"Home."

The rest of the ride is silent. I know he's thinking about everything. The phone call, the letter, the fact that the guy knows my name and cell number, knew that I'd be at Fitness World – heading to the pool specifically – and killed someone as a warning to me. I mean, why else could he have killed that guy? The phone call seemed to suggest it was a warning to me. And Cooper just has that look. That thinking look. Very serious. Very jaw-clenchy. That must be what he looks like when he's working on a case.

We get there about ten minutes later. Home, I mean. Cooper goes to his room, saying he'll be out in a bit.

And that's fine by me. If there's anything I need before discovering who's out to kill me – since Cooper seems to think he knows and wants to show me – it's food. I realize that I'm starving. I haven't eaten dinner. I head to the kitchen to see what possible takeout is hiding in the fridge.

I'm in the middle of pouring myself a bowl of Rice Krispies, since it doesn't appear that either of my roommates has ordered takeout today, when my dad comes in and gives me a hug. And this just kind of freaks me out. I mean, my dad and I touch hands at most. We smile appreciatively at one another when one of us does or says something nice to the other. And, well, that's about it. We do not hug. We haven't hugged yet, anyway. He is trying to make up for lost time, though. Maybe he's reached the hugging part of his amend-making?

"We were so worried," he says, sitting down beside me, not letting go of my hand, which I kind of need to eat my cereal. I'm right-handed! I realize the hug is not part of any stage he's going through with our developing relationship, but more of a relieved-to-see-me-still-among-the-living hug.

"I'm fine," I say, my mouth full. I swallow. I don't want to be rude.

"Well after Cooper talked to your friend Rags—"

"—Mags," I correct him. "Magda."

"—and before you called, we didn't know that. We didn't know you were okay at all! We just knew someone had threatened to kill you, and you weren't at your boyfriend's or anywhere else that we could think of. My god, Heather, when Cooper hung up the phone with Magda, he was white as a ghost. He didn't know what to do. He told me everything, and I felt, I don't know, helpless. You can't do that to us! We care about you." He squeezes my hand. He still won't let go of it. "We were bowled over with relief when you called. I never saw Cooper move so fast to get out of the house, as he did when you called."

"Sorry," I say, distractedly, trying to will away the feelings of excitement at the fact that Cooper was so nervous hearing that someone wanted me dead. I should feel awful. He thought I might be lying in a ditch somewhere, dead as a doornail. I shouldn't feel happy about that! I mean, I already know he cares about me. I don't need proof.

"Honey," my dad says, snapping me out of my reveries. I look at him, seeing a knowing expression on his face. "If you want to know, all you have to do is look at the man. It's written all over him," he says in practically a whisper.

"Huh?" I say. Because, hello, _random. _That had to be the most cryptic message my dad's ever given me.

But before I can ask him to elaborate, Cooper enters the kitchen. His hair's wet and he's in sweats. He's clearly just grabbed a quick shower.

For some reason, I can't help but picture that. Him showering, I mean. So I look at my bowl of cereal with immense interest and take another spoonful. I feel myself turning red, though. God, why am I such a schoolgirl when it comes to this man?

I hear a rumbling of dishes and silverware and look up to see Cooper grabbing a bowl himself. He sits next to me, and pours himself some cereal, too.

"You miss dinner, too?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says, not really looking at me.

I look around, noticing that my dad's snuck out of the room.

"I'm sorry I made you guys so nervous before," I say, thinking about what my dad told me. "I shouldn't have taken a walk, and not told anyone, after what that guy on the phone said. And I do wish I'd just told you about the whole thing when you were, um, in my room last night."

God, that sounds like we'd been up to no good last night. I _wish_ we'd been up to no good last night.

He waves a hand dismissively at me, acting like it was all no big deal. And I know we kind of already addressed all of this. But… I just felt, after what my dad said, that I had to apologize again. I'd hate to worry like that about Cooper. So I just had to say it.

"It's okay," he says, once again this evening. "Although you are right; you shouldn't have taken a walk on your own after a phone call like that. You really shouldn't take walks at all at night when you're upset. Not in this city."

"Right," I say, sighing. I hate lectures from Cooper – even ones that I've sort of asked for. Because when he lectures me, he seems more like a big brother than a potential boyfriend. And who needs that?

Cooper sifts through some papers on the table that I didn't even see him enter the room with. But he had to have brought them when he entered because the table was clear when I'd sat down to eat. Clearly I'd just missed the papers because I was busy imagining him showering… and us showering together. I really do need to stop acting like such a schoolgirl!

"So is this it?" I ask. "Is this what you wanted to show me?"

"Yeah," he answers, looking for something. "When you were saying that this whole thing felt really familiar to you, something occurred to me. Now where is… "

He picks up one of the manila envelopes and starts thumbing through the pages. "Okay, here it is," he says, pulling something out. "Do you remember this?"

He places a letter down in front of me, written with cut-out letters from a variety of different magazines.

_Dear Heather,_

_My one and only. My love. My own personal sugar rush. Please put the blue skirt on. I love the blue skirt. Someday, when we're together, you'll wear it everyday. I'll see to it. I can't wait. I loved seeing you at the Mall of America last week. Do you remember which one I was? We had a tender moment. We're destined for each other. You should dump that Jordan Cartwright right now. He's nothing compared to me. _

_Heather, if I can't have you, no one can._

_Be seeing you again. Real soon._

My blood feels like it's to ice. I feel like someone has just punched my insides. Oh I remember this letter all right. Back in my heyday, I'd received occasional crazy stalkery letters from admirers, but this guy was different.

How could I have forgotten about him? This guy was my worst nightmare for a good six months! He grabbed me and got a quick feel after a Mall of America performance that was… what… ten years ago, now. I'd been nearly 18. It had been awful. I'd felt so… violated. The way he'd touched me… the letters that he wrote about it, some that were so much worse than this… and then his final attack; he'd attempted to kidnap me, we think, but I had been kept safe by my numerous bodyguards, and the crazy guy got away.

And I never heard from him again. The police hadn't gotten him. He'd never bothered me again. I'd had nightmares about him for months. And slowly… eventually… I'd forgotten about him. I don't think I'd ever really thought about him after that. Like I'd blocked it all out or something. But now… now I'm thinking about it again. Oh, am I thinking about it again, all right.

_Oh my god. That guy… _

"Hey," I hear Cooper say, as he takes the paper out of my hands, which I now realize are shaking. He grabs them – my hands, I mean – and holds them. But I'm actually too scared to enjoy it, to enjoy Cooper holding my hands! I realize in a flash that I'm 18 again. I'm 18 and very, very alone. And someone wants to kill me. And no one – not my mother, my bodyguards, my boyfriend or my label can make me feel okay or safe.

I remember what Jordan's dad had said about the stalker. He'd said that it'd be good press. That we should publicize how scared and upset I was. I remember hating him then because I _was _scared and upset and I hadn't wanted to go through it in public. I hadn't wanted anyone to know about the letters, or the groping. My mother had held me, telling me it would be okay, but when the subject came up about Jordan's dad, she'd simply said "well, honey, if it'd be better for your career…"

I should've known then that she was capable of taking off with all my money. She could always separate herself too well from me as her daughter, and just look at me like a pop star. Someone she did business with and mentored.

And Jordan… well, he'd said all the right things. That he'd keep me safe and wouldn't let anything happen to me. But… it hadn't made me feel safe. It had been nice of him to say, but it had never been enough.

I do remember that.

"Hey," he says again, pulling me closer to him. Cooper. Right. He's here.

I finally look at him. He looks concerned. Really concerned. And why not? He shows me a piece of paper with magazine letters on it, and I'm shaking, reverting back to ten years earlier in my mind.

"I'm sorry," I stammer. "I just… I hadn't remembered this until—"

"It's okay. I'm sorry, Heather. I should've explained, not just sprung it on you like that—"

"No, no, it's okay," I say. Why am I so rattled? Why am I acting like such a baby?

I stare at Cooper, trying to picture him in the shower again, figuring that might calm me down. But he looks so concerned, I can't do it. He's such a good friend, and you really shouldn't undress your good friends. Especially when they're sitting there all worried about you.

"Why do _you_ have this?" I ask, wondering for the first time since seeing the letter after all these years why Cooper has it. I didn't even know that he'd known about this back then. Cooper had sort of been avoiding his family back then. He hadn't really walked away fully yet, but he did not hang around much at all; _I_ almost never saw him. And when it came to anything involving the label, he was less than interested. I just assumed his kid brother's girlfriend's stalker would've fallen into the category of family business annoyance; the kind of thing he just wasn't interested in.

"Oh," he says. "Right." He pulls back, looking at me quickly to make sure once again that I'm okay. That I'm done shaking. Somehow, with him holding my hands, I am. Which, of course, is when he pulls them away. His hands, I mean. Obviously I look too okay.

I quickly contemplate shaking again so I can feel his hands on mine, but realize that that would be abuse of his friendship and concern. It wouldn't be right. But it would feel nice.

"Well, I keep files of… of all my old cases," he says, not really making eye contact. As a matter of fact, he looks downright uncomfortable.

"All of your _old cases?_" I ask. "Are you… did you… how did—"

"It's funny actually," he says, barreling on, still not looking at me. He puts a hand through his hair and smiles a little, as if he actually does find something funny and isn't, you know, totally uncomfortable. But he is. Uncomfortable, I mean. He always puts a hand through his hair when he is. "You asked me today, at your office, what my first case was."

He touches the file and looks at me. "Well, here you go. You now know one more thing about me, and one of my cases."

"You investigated my stalker?" I ask incredulously. "You… _this _was your first case?"

I'm shocked. How had I missed that, all those years ago? I mean, I know I'd been scared stiff and all, so I wasn't really paying attention to much, but I just don't remember Cooper hanging around when I was talking to cops back then about the guy.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "I didn't think the cops were doing much about it. And you were… I just remember how upset you were. I felt like something was off about the whole thing with this guy, and everyone – my dad, my brother, your mom, the cops – seemed to think it was just a typical stalker, no big deal." He shrugs. "Hell, my dad even wanted to get you more press because of it," he says, looking really annoyed at the memory of the way his dad handled the whole business. "No one was _doing _anything. So… I did a little digging. I made friends with the cop on your case, and he copied everything for my files so I could look into it myself. Good guy. We're still friends," he says lightly.

I'm blinking erratically. I didn't expect this. Today, when I'd been asking him all those questions, I hadn't expected an answer like this to be in the pack. "I was your first case?" I ask. It's all I can manage, after everything he's just told me.

"Well, I'd always been interested in being a detective. I just hadn't had a case yet," he says, shifting in his seat. He looks at me, considers me. He sighs and says, completely seriously, "and I _have_ always cared about you. I thought of you as a friend. Not just my little brother's girlfriend," he says, with a look that seems to say he knows how I think; he knows the assumptions I always draw where he's concerned. "And someone was after you. I didn't like it," he says, shrugging.

"I don't remember you even being around much then. This was about ten years ago," I say, looking at him intensely. "You were… you were finishing school. You were dating that girl, Laurie or something—"

"—Lara."

"And you never hung around with your family. Not your brother, and hence not _me_. How did you even find out about the stalker? I know I never told you about him. When I saw you back then, we used to just talk about jazz or your classes or my hopes to someday write my own music or something. We'd watch TV, talk about lots of different things. Never business, and definitely not that creep."

"You didn't tell me," he admits. "No one did. I overheard a conversation between you and Jordan once. You were crying, telling him that you were really scared. That the last letter you'd received from the guy had you jumping out of your skin. And he said you'd be fine and not to worry about it. I didn't know what was going on. I tried to get you to tell me, the next time I saw you. But you didn't tell me. You kept asking me questions about school. You just tried to steer the conversation completely away from yourself."

He smiles at me. "You still do that. Not as _much_. But you do still have quite the way of leaving major things like that out of our conversations on purpose."

"Okay," I say, choosing to ignore that last point. "So you overheard me crying to your brother one day. I never told you about the stalker when you tried to draw me out. Then what?"

He sighed. "I fished around. I asked my dad about it. I asked my brother. My mom, even. I figured out who the cop was on the case and I became his best buddy. I got constant updates on the situation. And, uh… I was sort of there, after the Mall of America thing, when you talked to the cops. I was there for your statement, somewhere you couldn't see me."

I remember giving that statement. I'd cried my eyes out! That creep had groped and touched me and completely humiliated me. I'd told the cops that I wanted out of show business because it was too much; it wasn't what I had bargained for. In a nutshell: I'd cracked. I'd had a total meltdown. The first of my career. It had been the first time that I'd hated it. All of it. The glitz, the glamour, the limelight.

I look at Cooper. And he'd witnessed it! "You were there? Coop!"

"I guess you can see why I never wanted you to know about this," he says. And there it is again; the hand through the hair. "And you never would've had to know about it at all if I didn't think…"

"… that this guy that's now stalking me is the same guy."

"Yeah."

I am still completely humiliated that Cooper had seen me like that, during my statement. But… we do have bigger fish to fry.

"He disappeared. I mean, after the Mall of America thing, that guy wrote a few more letters, made one attempt to… I think to get me. To kidnap me or something. That went wrong and he _disappeared._ Why would he come back now? It doesn't make sense."

"It doesn't," he says. He pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks tired.

"Thanks," I say, lamely.

He looks at me curiously.

"For investigating this back then. I'm a bit belated. But… thanks. I would've felt safer back them knowing you were on the case."

"Yeah, right," he says.

I smile. He doesn't need to believe me. But I know. I would've felt safer.

"Did you ever find out more about the guy? More than what I knew?"

He grabs the file and sifts through it, clearly trying to jog his memory.

"Well… I figured out who he was," he says.

"_What?"_

No one ever told _me _who he was! How did Cooper know?

"It didn't matter, Heather," he says. He sighs. "I figured out who he was that night that he went after you. I even got my hands on him that night. We fought. He had a mask on. And he knocked me out. He got away, and after that, no one ever heard from him again. He never went back to his house or job. It was like he disappeared into thin air. So telling you about who he was didn't matter. We thought – the cop and me – that telling you his name and where he was from, only to say that he's disappeared and no one knows where he is, would've just upset you more."

"Where was he from?" I ask, trying not to get too upset that Cooper and the cop on my case at the time, kept something like that from me. As if I didn't matter! I was only the scared stiff victim. An 18 year old girl, with no clue who the man terrorizing her was.

He pulls a piece of paper from the file and reads it. "Jersey," he says, looking at me knowingly.

"Great," I say, placing my head in my hands. "That's just great."

"I mean, it doesn't mean it _is _him," he says.

"Of course it's him!" I look up at Cooper. "This isn't just because he's from Jersey. The letter I got today said '_remember… if I can't have you, no one can.' _Remember being the key word here, Coop. Remember, because he said this all to me before. Long, long before."

I can't believe this is happening. I'm not famous anymore. Why on earth am I dealing with a psycho stalker that made six months of my life long ago a total living hell?

"Heather."

I look up at him.

"He's not getting his hands on you," he says quietly. "I won't let anything happen to you. Don't you get that?"

I nod. And even though his words wash over me, calming me down, I still feel fear grip my heart. "I'm just scared," I admit, nearly whispering.

"I know," he says. "We're going to get him and he's not going to do anything to you. I promise."

I manage a small smile and stand up.

"I don't think there's much we can do tonight," I say. "I'm kind of tired."

"Yeah. Okay."

He stands too.

"I guess I should tell you something about myself, in case you haven't figured it out yet," I say, looking up at him.

"What's that?"

"I'm… I'm high risk."

He laughs at that. Really laughs. Seeing it – him laughing – calms me down completely. It's like his smile has healing powers, I swear. It's just such a comforting thing to see.

"You've been high risk since I met you," he says finally.

"You know this and you let me live here? You willingly hang out with me? I could very well get you into trouble with all my high riskiness."

And then he says something that honestly melts my heart.

"I'll take my chances."

I crawl into bed after a warm shower, surprised by how tired I am. You'd think I'd be wired after discovering how scary my stalker might actually be. Discovering that Cooper investigated my case ten years ago. Discovering that I was his first case. Hearing him say, once again, that he cares about me. You'd think I'd be staring at the ceiling, unblinkingly, a nervous wreck and lovesick fool combined.

But that's not the case. Here it is:

Someone who was once my worst nightmare is back and wants me dead.

And my body is actually able to relax and let sleep take it…

… because I know that I have the best protection ever, lying right downstairs. Looking over me.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks again!! Hope you enjoy! Mac**

**Chapter 7**

It's odd how your life can change so much in one day and you can still wake up the next feeling totally refreshed. Because that is how I feel when I get up the next day. Not petrified that someone wants to kill me. But just… refreshed. Relaxed. Well-rested. And I never feel this way in the morning. Everyone knows this simple fact; I am _not _a morning person.

I throw on some clothes, put a comb through my hair in an effort to make sense of the 'do that seems to have developed from going to sleep with wet hair, and head downstairs. Spotting no one, I grab a pop tart from the cabinet and head out the door, tip-toeing past Cooper's room, just in case he is home.

I close the door behind me and turn toward the three locks. One. Two. Th—

"And just where do you think you're going?"

I jump, turning around only to come face-to-face with none other than Cooper himself. "You scared me!" I say.

"Sorry," he says, though he doesn't look too sorry. He's smiling actually. He has a certain glint in his eyes; one that I usually catch when he's playfully making fun of me. One that's there when we're taking a walk with Lucy on a cool night, having a great conversation…

… one that I haven't seen much of lately.

I mean, we've been arguing lately. Then we make up, but it's still just so _serious _between us! And then last night, there was plenty of _emotion_. Despite the fear, the emotion part of the evening was actually nice. Really nice. So lately, there's just not been much in the way of a glint in the eyes or smiles shared between us.

"It's fine," I say, in response to the whole scaring me thing. "You shouldn't sneak up on a girl that's been threatened, though. Didn't your mom ever teach you manners?"

He crosses his arms over his chest and leans slightly against the doorframe. "I guess she left the part about being threatened out of it," he says. "So, you didn't answer me. Where are you off to in such a hurry? I left the house about barely a half hour ago and you were still in bed."

"Just going to work. It _is _Thursday. Last I checked, that means I go to work."

"Well, not today," he says.

"Cooper, seriously, I have things to do! I can't let some sicko that might just be trying to get a rise out of me anyway rule my life. I mean, is this threat worth my job? Really?"

"This particular job? Possibly."

There it is again. He's smiling.

"And why's that?"

Now I'm smiling – well, more like smirking.

"It's proven to be life-threatening on a few occasions, for one thing. And I think you could easily have a better job, if you wanted."

"Well I like it," I say. "I have friends there, and a life, respect—"

"Okay, okay," he says, putting a hand up to stop my defense, although he's still smiling. "We'll fight this battle another day. For now, we have better things we could be doing."

"Like going to work," I say, trying to pass him.

He grabs my elbow – lightly – and I feel electricity course through me. Oh, this man. _Why _does he have this effect on me? It's embarrassing being a twenty-eight year old woman with eighth grade hormones.

"Like going to the police station," he says softly, enticingly. Like going to the police station is like going to the park and having a picnic or something.

"The police station? That's a great idea!" I say sarcastically. "Should we march in there and ask if they've opened up a Potential Homicide division? Because I really don't see how going there will help anything."

He tilts his head, fixing me with a knowing look. "Heather," he says, feigning impatience.

"Fine. But I do want to stop by work later. I have to let Magda know I'm okay."

"She has a phone."

"Well, I want to _show _her how okay I am," I say. "And…"

He stops smiling and the glint in his eyes is replaced with a curious, skeptical, _suspicious_ look. "What?"

"… well… I should go and talk to Tad. He was really nervous last night. I kind of just disappeared on him."

"About that," he says. "You never did tell me why you left last night." He furrows his brows, as that look of concern I'm becoming so familiar with flits across his expression. "What did he say to you?"

"Nothing much," I lie. "But I really should talk to him, Coop. He _is_ my –"

I can't say it. I mean, was Tad ever really my boyfriend? No. It's simple. He was the rebound guy. The guy that I _had_ to date to have a chance with Cooper. I don't think I even have a chance with Cooper, or that I ever did. But I do know one thing. I'm just not in the mood to date someone when my heart's not in it. It's not fair to anyone.

"—boyfriend?"

Cooper says the word I can't say. I look at him, curiously. There's something about the way he said that word; something about the way he's looking at me now.

Before I can discover why he looks different, it's gone. That… that look. It was just there! But now… now the mask is back. The great, unreadable, almost expressionless, mysterious mask that Cooper wears, that keeps me from ever knowing anything for sure where he's concerned.

"Shall we?" I ask, walking past him.

He says nothing, but strides alongside me.

We arrive at the police station ten minutes later. I recognize this place too well. Maybe I _should_ seek out different work. I mean, really, working in a residence hall shouldn't have a girl so completely familiar with the local PD.

"Oh, god, it's you."

I turn and see Detective Canavan, holding a clipboard, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "Who died?"

"No one," I say, defensively. Then I add, "yet."

Cooper shoots me a look at that and I shrug innocently. It only seems fair to warn Canavan there could be a death soon. It's what I do best.

"We're here to see Barrett," Cooper tells Canavan, and the good detective doesn't even hide his look of relief that I'm not here to torture him with my conspiracy theories (which always turn out to be true, but whatever).

"Hang on," he says, disappearing around a corner.

I look around at the smoky front office and suppress a chill. These places freak me out. The last few times I'd been there, I'd been too much in shock and worried about my residents on top of that to really take note of the sleezes that hung out there, the creeps that stare for too long, and the general coldness of it all.

I feel a hand on my back and look up, seeing Cooper standing close to me – protectively close – looking down at me with the expression of a caring friend. He doesn't mask _that_ look. And I appreciate it.

"Cartwright, what the hell are you doing here?"

A man that looks vaguely familiar to me walks up to Cooper and me and shakes Cooper's hand.

"Hey, Barrett," Cooper says. "Nice to see you too," he jokes. "Do you remember Heather –"

"Wells," he cuts him off, staring at me, mouth open. "Heather Wells, _teen star_. Well, of course. It's how we met, after all," he says to Cooper.

And then I remember. He was the cop on my case. Duh! Who else would Cooper be taking me to see?

"Although, I'm not sure I was supposed to mention that," Barrett says sheepishly to Cooper.

"It's okay," Cooper says. "I've told her about my investigation."

"Oh," Barrett says, still staring at me. Then he looks at Cooper. _"Oh!" _he says, coming to some kind of personal epiphany. "You two finally –"

"—No," Cooper says, cutting him off. "Can, uh, can we talk to you privately?"

I follow Cooper as Barrett leads us toward his office, the dejected feeling at the way he said 'no' – so _quickly – _making my heart sort of ache. Because I can guess at what Barrett may have been getting at, with his epiphany-like _"oh"._ He thought we'd gotten together.

I look at Cooper. Why would this guy think that at all, though? Cooper saw me – I was realizing more and more with each passing day – as a little sister. Nothing more.

"I thought you never wanted Miss Wells to know about that investigation," Barrett says, closing the door to his office.

"Well there's reason for her to know now," Cooper says.

Neither men look at me, so I sit down, feeling awkward. If there's one thing I hate, it's when people talk about you in front of you, and never acknowledge you. You might as well be a bug on the wall, spying on a private conversation! It feels that way, anyway.

"And what's the reason?" Barrett asks, walking to the other side of his desk and taking a seat himself.

"Well—" Cooper begins.

"Hi," I say, finally, impatiently, waving a hand. The two men look down at me, as if just noticing my presence. And that's kind of annoying. I mean, I could be at work right now, if they'd prefer to carry on as if I don't exist. But Cooper dragged me here. He told me I couldn't. Go to work, I mean. "So, do I get to chime in here? Or can I go?"

"Sorry," Cooper says, taking the seat beside me. "Heather, Barrett worked on your case ten years ago."

"I remember," I say. "Well, sort of." I look at Barrett. "Sorry. It was kind of a stressful time for me, what with the groping and humiliation, nervous breakdown and threat on my life."

"I understand," the older man says. He must be getting close to retirement now. He has kind, sort of crinkly eyes. I do remember feeling safe talking to him when this had all transpired the first time around. "So, why the sudden interest in a case that's been closed for years?"

Cooper places the note down before Barrett. The new note. Barrett takes a moment to look at it and read it.

I look around his office, nervously. I look at his trophies. I gaze at a NASCAR calendar hanging on the wall, realizing that someone forgot to flip it forward this month. I see Barrett's family photos. Nice-looking bunch. Lots of family members…

I tuck a piece of hair behind my ears and exhale. Who am I trying to kid? I can put on a tough face, but… yeah, I'm scared. Nothing in Barrett's office can take my mind off of this whole thing, and it's just… it's so unreal.

I mean, why am I sitting in a detective's office when I should be at work? Why is someone after me? Honestly, what have I really done to deserve any of this? I pay my taxes on time, I totally practice forgiveness (I mean, come on, I still talk to my mother), I'm nice to animals and most people, and always tip well. That reminds me; when this is all over, I totally have to go back to Dinah's Diner and give Betsy a great tip.

I feel Cooper's hand on my back again and look at him. He smiles sympathetically at me, but fixes me with a look that seems like he's trying to will some of his strength to me. He turns his attention, reluctantly, to Barrett.

"Seems like the same guy to me. To us," he corrects himself, gesturing towards me. I can hear a seething tone underlying his calm statement that this new stalker could be the same as the old creep.

"God, Cartwright, this was a long time ago. I can't tell," Barrett says. "Hang on. Let me grab the file."

He leaves the office and Cooper looks at me.

"You okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine," I lie. Then I shake my head. I'm sick of lying to Cooper. "Well, less than fine, I guess. This whole thing sucks."

He laughs at my choice of words. "It does," he agrees. "But it'll be over soon."

"You don't know that, Coop. You guys looked into this back then, and you had a lot more to go on. You didn't get him then." I try not to look like this bothers me. But it does. Last time, I was young. I was able to brush the whole thing off and move on.

This time? I don't think I can. I can't move forward if this guy disappears again, not knowing when he'll decide to suddenly up and stalk me again.

"That was my fault," Cooper says.

I look up at him, confused. He looks… well, kind of tormented. Now it's my turn to be concerned.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I thought I could handle that, that… " He trails off and puts a hand through his hair. "I thought I could get him and handle him. I did everything wrong. If I'd immediately called for backup, we'd have gotten him then. He wouldn't have gotten away that night."

"You probably kept him from kidnapping me. And then he did disappear for a whole decade," I say, trying to be helpful.

He shakes his head, clearly back in that night. "Man, when I ever realized his plan was to kidnap you… I just wanted to get my hands on him. I wanted to hurt him. And I wanted it badly enough that I let the emotions rule me. I didn't use my head. I got in over my head and he got the upper hand."

"You said he knocked you out," I say, softly. "What happened? Were you okay?"

"I was fine. I came to, knowing I messed up, and panicking that he'd gotten to you."

"Well he hadn't."

"He had, though. You just had lots of bodyguards. They saved you that night. Not me."

"God, it's all so jumbled in my mind," I say, touching my forehead. Remembering all these moments honestly kind of hurts. Ten years of blocking something out, it's almost impossible to remember any of it! "I remember him grabbing me, and pulling me, saying I was his and we'd now be together or some totally ridiculous stuff like that, and then like ten guys pulled me away. And _poof. _Gone. He was nowhere to be seen, I guess."

I look at Cooper. He is staring down at the new note, and I can see anger and regret all over his face.

"Coop, stop looking like that. This was _not _your fault by any means. If you hadn't gotten involved with the investigation, he might've gotten me that night."

"Maybe. But if this guy now is the same guy, then… well, this wouldn't be happening to you right now," he says quietly.

"Nothing's happening to me," I say. "Some guy's made a few passing threats. It happens." I shrug nonchalantly. And hey, that was true. Things like this do happen.

Okay, so they happen to me. But still!

Cooper looks at me and for a moment, I see his mask fall away. I can see some of… some of the things he keeps so carefully hidden, and it makes my heart swell! He cares about me, possibly more than I know. And if anything happens to me this time, he won't forgive himself. I can't let that happen. He's too nice to live a sad life full of regrets. I have to keep myself safe, and get this guy put behind bars at the same time.

In my experience, those two things do _not _go hand-in-hand. I'll need a plan.

The door opens and Barrett walks back in, a big manila envelope full of papers in his hands. The envelope looks a bit like the one Cooper and I had been looking through last night.

"Okay, from what I can see, there are a few similarities here in his letters."

He sits down and looks all-business. He slides some reading glasses up his nose with his index finger, studying a few of the old notes at once.

"He consistently called you his one and only. His love. He usually referenced that blue skirt you wore on an album cover. And he often made references to the song 'Sugar Rush'."

He studies the new letter once again. "Just basing it on patterns, I'd agree that it does _seem_ like the same guy."

I look at Cooper, and his jaw is clenched. He already knew it was the same guy. Why does he seem mad now, hearing the detective say it?

Probably, I realize, he's still kicking himself because he didn't get him that night. But why can't he get that that's not his fault?

I make a bold decision and touch his hand with mine. My hand is cold, I realize, as soon as it comes into contact with his big, soft and warm one. He looks down at my hand, surprised to see it holding his own and he looks at me.

I smile, reassuringly, because honestly? I'm not touching his hands because deep down I love him and someday hope to rip his clothes off with my teeth. Right now all that matters is this. He's one of my best friends. He cares about me tremendously – so much more than I had ever known or thought – and he's kind of scared right now. For me. Pissed at some faceless stranger and his scary threats. Because this man could hurt _me_. Cooper needs me, and it's the only way I can think of to let him know I'm there.

He squeezes my hand back in gratitude and quickly runs a thumb over the top of it, softly. Gently. But then he stops doing that, as if realizing I might read it the wrong way (which, okay, for a moment I totally did). But he doesn't move his hand away. He doesn't put his wall back up or his mask back on.

That's something, anyway.

"When did this note come?" Barrett asks.

"Yesterday afternoon. I received it at work," I say.

"He knows where you work? Okay, well until this is all worked out, you shouldn't go back there."

I open my mouth to argue, as Cooper shoots me a triumphant look. I narrow my eyes playfully in his direction.

"He also knows her cell number," Cooper adds. "He called her two nights ago."

"What did he say?" Barrett asks, as he's writing down the latest about the phone call.

"That I was next," I say.

"For what?" Barrett asks, not looking up.

"Death, I guess. He was sort of referencing a death I witnessed in the pool at Fitness World."

" I heard about that guy. Strange situation. And… you _witnessed _that?" Barrett asks, now looking right at me. "You sure do have a way of finding trouble, honey. Canavan's told me about some of the things you wound up in the middle of last year."

"I'm not a troublemaker," I say defensively. "These situations sort of find _me. _Believe me, I don't go looking for them."

"You don't stay out of them, either," Cooper says, laughing slightly.

"Well I can't help it," I say, smirking at Cooper for the second time today. "My roommate's a detective and makes it look so fun!"

"Roommate, huh?" Barrett asks. "That's a shame."

"Why did you say that the guy drowning at Fitness World was a strange situation?" Cooper asks quickly, before I can ask Barrett why my being roomies with Cooper is a shame.

"He was an athlete, for one thing. He'd been a swimmer for about ten years. People like that don't just drown."

"What else?" I ask. Because it seems like there is. Something else, I mean.

"Well…" he trails off. "Actually, this might be something, given the phone call you just told me about." He touches his intercom button. "Rosie, get me the file on the Fitness World drowning, please."

"What is it?" Cooper asks.

"The guy was talking to some acquaintances before going into the locker room to change for the pool. In their statements, they did mention that he was really excited to be at the gym that day because someone who _used to be _famous was in there. Someone he always thought was, um… hot. Someone he was hoping to meet."

I blush, hoping that maybe Debbie Gibson or Tiffany were working out at Fitness World that day too. It's awkward hearing people talk about how hot you were when you were sixteen-years-old or so in front of the guy you like and a total stranger.

A woman walks in and places the file on Barrett's desk, excusing herself quickly. He sifts through the file.

"Yeah. Two different guys said he wanted to meet some former famous person and thought if they could meet they'd fall in love. Sounds like your stalker is a jealous man. Although, that's your typical stalker, honey. They're possessive. They think you are theirs, and they stomp on anyone to make sure of it."

Tears spring to my eyes and I feel a hard pang in my chest. "I knew it," I whisper, my voice choked. I'd been suspecting this all along, but now I felt like I knew it for sure. And it hurt. It really hurt.

"Heather?" Cooper says, fixing me with one of his looks. Caring and concerned.

"An innocent man was killed… because of _me_."

Cooper squeezes my hand. The hand I had put there to support him, he was now using to show me that he's there… always there. For me. Right there. Supporting me.

"You didn't do anything," he says.

Well, that's not totally true, I think to myself. I went to the gym. I never go to the gym. Clearly gyms are not the place for me. I fall off treadmills at gyms and get people killed. You won't see me making _that _mistake ever again. Of going to the gym, I mean. Tad can just kiss my –

Kiss my…

"Heather, what's wrong?" Cooper says.

But I can't look at him. I can't look at anything. All I can think about is how my stalker knew my phone number, knew where I worked, and knew I'd be at the gym. He was the jealous type, clearly, killing someone for wanting to meet me… kind of like a jealous…

… boyfriend.

"Oh my god."


	8. Chapter 8

**You have no idea how much I love the feedback I've received. I swear, you're all too nice!!! I really appreciate it! Enjoy the next part!!!! --MAC **

**Chapter 8 **

"Heather."

I hear Cooper call my name, and I know, on some subconscious level, that he's sitting right next to me. I even think we're holding hands. I squeeze my hand to check. Yup. We're holding hands. But he sounds far away. And I'm beginning to see stars. I feel lightheaded.

"Heather."

He sounds anxious now. If I had to guess, he's looking at me, as I sit pale as a ghost staring stupidly at nothing. But… how can I help it? I mean, Tad, my boyfriend… he could very well be my stalker! Well, possibly. I think. Okay, so I can't be sure. I really don't remember much about the whole fiasco from ten years ago. I was young. And I'm more sure than ever now that I've blocked most of it out anyway. I'm sure any good therapist would agree.

There is one thing I do remember, of course. Some guy grabbed me, all those years ago, groped me. On two different occasions! After that infamous Mall of America performance and then again the night he tried to kidnap me. This guy whispered things. Said I'd be _his_ someday. He wrote me letters talking about _how_ I'd be his. How he'd take me away. How we'd really, um… _be _together. It was disgusting and it had scared me to no end.

If this guy _is _Tad…

… then I've kissed him. Hugged him. He's held me. I've slept next to him.

Oh god. I've willingly stuck my tongue down his throat!

But I can't help but think that it makes sense. Tad knows where I work; it's how I met him! He knows my cell phone number. And… and he was there, at Fitness World. When that innocent man died.

I walked into the pool area, and the dead guy was in Tad's arms!

Oh god. I feel like I'm going to be sick.

I hear that guy talking. Oh, right, Barrett. I hear Cooper calling my name, feel him squeezing my hand.

He touches my cheek, which is when I realize that I'm crying. Just a little. He's wiped a tear. I look at him. Cooper.

"Heather, what's wrong?" he asks and I can hear an impatient desperation in his voice. "You're gone white as a sheet."

"I haven't had a chance to work on my tan much these days," I mutter. My attempt at humor to break the tension in the room. Cooper doesn't smile, though he seems relieved anyway that I have found my voice and my sense of humor – even if I am forcing it.

I look around. "Where…"

"Barrett went to get you a glass of water. Please, tell me what's going on. Do you… do you have an idea who it is?"

I nod nervously, looking at some space between us. But then I shake my head "no". Because, I really am not sure. I could just be insane. Let's face it, with my track record, it's always a possibility.

Tad could be as normal as he seems. And I really don't remember my stalker being such a hottie.

"I… I don't know," I stammer. "I just thought… but then, no, it can't…"

"Heather."

I look at him and he holds my gaze steady. He stares at me pleadingly. "Tell me. Please."

"Um… well… I think it could possibly—"

The door opens and Barrett walks in. "Oh, good, she's talking. That's a good sign. Here you go, honey," he says, holding a glass of water towards me. Cooper takes the water and hands it to me, holding my shaking hands so I don't spill as I take a careful sip.

I close my eyes as the refreshing cool water washes away the bad feelings, just for a moment. Then I look at Barrett.

"Okay, honey, so it seems that our talk has triggered something for you. So let's have it."

"Um."

That's all I can manage at the moment. I stare down at my cup until Cooper takes my hand again.

Once again, I'm too nervous, too upset to even enjoy it. I love the feel of his hand touching mine, don't get me wrong. But at the moment, the touch doesn't make me think about potential wedding bells. It just… it makes me feel safe. Wonderfully protected and _safe_. Like I felt last night when I crawled into bed.

The way Cooper's so often made me feel. Since I've known him.

I may have not been aware he investigated my case back then. But even then, I felt safe whenever he was around. Oh, why did I waste so much time on his brother?

"Heather?" Cooper prompts.

I look back up at him. I really don't want to admit this. That's all I need; for Cooper to see what bad taste I have in men. He'll never date me now! If he even ever thought about dating me at all, that is. I mean, he didn't want to be my rebound guy. I sincerely doubt he'll want to be the follow-up guy to the potentially murdering psycho I am sort of dating now.

He'll probably think I need a rebound for my rebound, since it was such a colossal disaster, what with the guy possibly wanting to kill me or whatever. And that – Cooper not wanting to date me because of my _really_ bad taste – just makes this whole thing so much worse than it already is. God, who even thought that was _possible_? This getting any worse, I mean.

Tad could be innocent of course. My mind's racing and nothing's making sense, which means it really could all be in my head.

Hopefully.

"Um," I say again. "Detective, does that folder from the drowning at Fitness World list all the witnesses?" I ask. Because that's what I do. I ask questions that present me with the most passive-aggressive round-about way of _not _actually saying something myself.

Barrett grabs the folder. "Yeah." He opens it and flips through a few pages. "Yeah, right here. There you are, _Miss Heather Wells_."

"Can you read some of the other names?"

"I thought you had an idea who it was," Cooper says quietly. He seems confused by my sudden interest in the people at the gym that day.

I look at him, silently asking him to just trust me.

"Elaine Binochi, 48 years old. She walked in right after it happened."

"Who else?" I ask.

"Tad Tocco. He saw the guy drowning and tried to save him. Mrs. Binochi found the body in this guy's arms."

I look at Cooper. I can't tell what he's thinking. He's staring off into space, kind of like I was a minute ago. I can see that his mind's at work.

"Tad was there?" he eventually asks, looking at me. He looks… upset. Is he mad at me?

"Yeah. We were working out together. Why do you think I'd even be at a gym?" I ask.

He shakes his head and scoffs. "Okay, so Tad was there and you didn't tell me this in the last two days?"

"I didn't think to mention it," I say honestly.

He stares down and I can see it. The jaw-clenching I mean. Is he mad at me? What'd I do? I merely forgot to tell him something. Again. Okay, so it's a problem. My omitting things when talking to Cooper, I mean. I'm working on it!

"It's him," he says. He's so matter-of-fact. In his voice, there's no doubt. There's no question _at all. _It's Tad.

Oh the jaw-clenching is out of control now. He's mad. Really mad.

How can he be sure, though? I mean, sure I _think_ my would-be boyfriend couldbe behind this. How can Cooper know for sure, though? There's no evidence. Police seem to like that kind of thing when convicting people. You know. Evidence.

"You sound sure," I say.

"You know it's him," he says, looking at me. "It's all over your face."

He shakes his head. He's looking in my direction, but not _at _me. And… I can see something there – in his eyes, I mean – that I've never seen before. Hatred. Pure, unadulterated anger and hatred.

It scares me. I feel responsible somehow for putting that look in his eyes. It's so not him. Cooper… he's kind and sweet. He helps people in need, like his little brother's homeless ex-girlfriend for example. He's funny. He calm and laid back.

He's not an angry man. He's not someone that hates. But… but there it is. I can see it.

"Cooper… are you … okay? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," I say. Very lamely I might add.

He looks at me with complete disbelief. "You're… _you're_ sorry?" He opens his mouth to say something but closes it immediately and shakes his head. At himself, I think. He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a long breath. He looks like he's ready to jump out of his skin. He's make fists with his hands and he really does look ready to hit something. "This guy – the same one who did all those things, who tortured you and taunted you years ago – who got away thanks to me… is now _dating_ you. And you're sorry."

He bends over like he's hyperventilating for a moment, but then stands up in a rush.

"We don't know it's him," I say. Because we don't.

"He knows your cell, he knows where you work, he knows your name, he was at the gym, at the _pool, _that day, with you. He wants to change you. You said it yourself. He wants you to be like you were then."

He's staring at a wall, but I can see him shaking his head. "I can't believe this," he says, and he sounds miserable.

"But we don't know for sure," I insist.

"That's true," Barrett says, finally chiming in. "We need that little thing called evidence, Cartwright. Kind of makes it easier for us to go after this guy."

"Can you run a search on him?" Cooper asks.

"Yeah, buddy, I'll look into this guy," Barrett says in a reassuring tone. Clearly he, like me, can see how upset Cooper is.

Cooper nods at Barrett and looks at me once again. "Heather… I'm so sorry."

"Coop, stop, you didn't do anything! It's not your fault this guy – whoever he is – got away that night. Please. Cooper. Stop beating yourself up over that."

He smiles sadly at me. He once again shakes his head at himself, at his actions from a night that happened so long ago. God, I wish I knew what he was thinking. But I don't learn what that may be because he says "excuse me" to both Barrett and me. And then he leaves.

I let out a long, low whistle. "Did he get this fired up back then over this case?" I ask Barrett.

"He was really adamant. He wanted to find that guy. He said you were his friend. But… this is different."

"Why? I mean, the way I see it, it's kind of like a sequel. If anything, it'll just be more boring than the original," I say, attempting humor.

Barrett smiles. "Honey, if this guy is our guy, the same guy I mean, and if he's also your little boyfriend, then this is _very_ different. Let's just assume it's all true for a minute," he says.

Okay, I like this. Clearly no one said "let's just assume for a minute" to Cooper because Cooper is completely assuming already.

"Cartwright's clearly not too keen on the fact that such a sick man who's always been obsessed with you – who's also possibly now a murderer – has gotten into your circle, you life… and your bed. Just like he always said he would. Excuse my bluntness, honey. But… I know if I were Cartwright that's how I'd feel, too. And because he got so close that night and it went wrong and because you're a good friend of his, well he blames himself for it. That's why he's so mad. I can understand it."

Oh god. Of course. Cooper most likely thinks that Tad and I have been… well, intimate. I've slept there more than I've slept home lately. And if it is Tad, then…

… then Cooper thinks that the guy who once detailed all the things he would do to me actually got the opportunity to do it all, because in his mind _he _let him get away that night.

Oh man! Now I have guilt to add to the list of all the reasons Cooper will never want to date me! Who wants to be with someone that constantly makes you feel guilty about your actions from ten years ago?

This also means… I'm going to have to talk to Cooper. Which normally is fine of course. But I'm going to have to talk to him about something I really don't want to talk to him about. My sex life.

Oh god.

No. I can't. It's too weird.

Ugh. But I have to. I mean, Barrett's right. Cooper's seen the letters this guy has written. If he's assuming this guy is Tad – and he _is_ assuming that it seems – then in his mind, this sicko was able to do all those things to me, by becoming, quite cleverly if you ask me, my boyfriend.

No wonder he wants to hit something! I kind of want to hit something too. Except any time I hit anything my hand bruises. It's just not my thing. Hitting things, I mean. But if I see Tad and it _is _him, well bruises or not, the man's getting a pretty heated show of my anger.

So I have to at least alleviate Cooper's worries. He needs to know that all we've ever really done is kiss. Make out. Nothing more than that. He has to know that. If only I knew where he went!

"Honey, Cartwright was right about one thing. This guy's guilt was all over your face. I mean, you didn't say anything for a good minute and I'm assuming his name came into your head. So something clicked. Can you tell me about it?"

"It's like Cooper said. He wants to change me. Now that I think about it, he's sort of obsessed about it. About me losing weight and picking up gigs. I walked into the pool area that day and the dead guy was in his arms. I didn't see anything more. He's got my cell phone number, of course, and the voice sounded all contorted, like there was something covering the phone and he was changing his voice so it couldn't be recognized. I mean, I guess it could've been him. He can send a letter to work, because he knows where I work. It adds up. He's constantly saying things like 'who else would call you 'babe''? Obsessive things like that, you know?"

I'm babbling, I know. I look up and see Barrett writing it all down.

"And now that I think about it," I continue, distracted, lost in thought, "I don't know anything about him. I don't know where's he's from or what he did before he started teaching at the college. I don't know anything about his parents. If he has siblings…" I trail off, sighing. "The only thing I really know about him is that he teaches and he's hot."

I really should learn in the future to discover more about someone other than their obvious hotness before sticking my tongue down their throat and calling them my boyfriend.

"God, how stupid am I," I say out loud. Even though it's really just a thought. "I mean, I'm just sitting here dating a guy I barely know. Who does that?"

I look around. "Where's Cooper?"

Barrett shrugs. "Who knows? He was pretty miffed, honey. He… well, honey, he's always had a soft spot for you. I could see it then, but you were, of course, dating his younger brother. He made us keep the whole thing – him investigating your case, that is – quiet. He didn't want anyone thinking… anything."

Right. Can't have a girl dumping her pop star boyfriend, getting her hopes up about his totally cool and hot and _nice _older brother.

"But yeah. He had a soft spot for you even then. And from what I can see, that's only grown more over the years."

"Well sure," I say, shrugging sadly, all hope feeling very… deflated. "He thinks of me like a little sister."

Barrett laughs and I look up at him shocked and embarrassed he'd laugh at my sad admission of what is clearly the truth about how Cooper looks at me.

"What?" I ask.

"Honey, he may see you as something, but it's not a little sister. I can assure you of that."

"How could you know that for sure?" I ask, hoping maybe he'll tell me that Cooper's opened up about a buried and undying love he has for me.

"My profession has been to watch and observe people for nearly forty years. I just know."

Well, that's hopeful. Kind of. I guess. It could go many ways, I suppose. But I'll take it.

"Okay, honey, so here's our situation."

I fix him with my most detective-like face and nod for him to continue.

"We've got nothing."

"That's reassuring," I say, my face falling.

"We aren't positive it's the same stalker from ten years ago. We've got patterns in letters. I can tell you from years of work with cases like this; that is nothing. It won't hold up in court. Second, we have no reason to drag this boyfriend of yours in for questioning."

"So, what, we wait for him to strike again? Kill again? Because, in case you don't remember, his phone call seemed to imply that _I'm _next. Are we waiting for that?" I ask, sarcastically.

"Oh don't be dramatic. I tell you, you kids get into showbiz at these young ages, and all the world's a stage for the rest of your lives," he says, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not dramatic!" I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "I just don't exactly want to be killed. Is that unreasonable?"

"Okay, okay. I just want you to be totally aware of the realities of the situation," he says calmly.

"We've got nothing. I get it."

"Okay. For now, the plan is this: you do not go anywhere alone. You don't go to work. You don't go and see this boyfriend of yours. I will take the new evidence and run it through analysis to see if there are any parallels with other cases. I will do a check on Tad Tocco, see what his story is. Then we'll go from there."

I look down. "This isn't going to pan out," I say. "We're not going to get him. He's going to get away, or he's going to get me."

"You really think he's going to get anywhere near you with Cartwright by your side?"

I look up and see that Cooper's reentered the room. When he sees me spot him, he walks back in, hands in his pockets. He looks a little calmer, but that look in his eyes – that anger and hatred – is still there. It's more subdued. But it's not gone.

He sits beside me. "Absolutely not," he says to no one in particular, in answer to Barrett's question.

"Honey, I know it's hard, but just sit tight. We do need more than what we have right now. I'll work on it, and keep you posted the whole time."

"Okay," I say. Because what else is there to say, really?

Cooper and I leave the police department, and I immediately shield my eyes from the blazing glare of the sun. We were inside for awhile.

Cooper hasn't said anything since we left Barrett's office. It just sucks that the day had started out with such a refreshing feeling. Cooper and I had joked with each other, smirked and teased… and it's just gotten all heavy again.

I wish I wasn't such a magnet for trouble. When everything's quiet, Cooper and I have such a nice time. But that's not the reality. Basically wherever trouble is, Heather Wells is just not that far behind. It's true.

"Want a sandwich?" he asks, walking toward Joe's, which is not far from the police station.

"Sure," I say, realizing how hungry I am. We'd been there for awhile talking to Barrett and I really hadn't eaten much all day. "Actually that'd be perfect," I say, trying to lighten the mood with more positive words like 'perfect.'

The mood doesn't lighten.

We walk silently to Joe's and Cooper pulls his hand out of his pocket to open the door for me. And that's when I see it. His hand. It's… bloody.

"Coop, what happened!"

I grab his hand and look at it, touch it. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he says, looking down at me.

"Did you get into a fight? How did I not notice this before?"

He pulls his hand away and sticks it back in his pocket. Okay, so he's going to play that game.

"Where did you go before?" I ask, walking toward the counter at Joe's. If there's one thing about me, it's this: I don't let things go very easily. Oh, and I'm not a morning person. Okay, and I'm in love with the man I'm staring at right now, who's staring at the menu on the wall ahead of us, clearly hoping I am the type of person who, you know, lets things go.

Okay, that's three things about me.

"Cooper?"

He sighs. "I was just mad. I went outside. Do you want your usual?"

He looks down at me, as I stare up at him in shock. "You did this to yourself? Did you hit a wall or something?" I ask, looking horrified at the possibility. When he says nothing, the look worsens. "You hit a wall?" I say, practically shouting. "God, Coop, there's no reason for you to get so worked up. You don't… it doesn't make any sense."

"It doesn't?"

I look up at him at that. At the way he said it.

"Can I help you?" the woman behind the counter asks.

We order our food, and I wonder frantically what he meant by that. We sit down and I take a few nervous bites of my food, not sure of what to say.

"Heather."

I look at him, the handsome man across the table from me. I've really never seen him like this. In the space of two days, he's shown me so much more of himself. These raw emotions that are so locked away all the time. Here they are.

Cooper.

He feels anger and hatred. The kind that boils inside until you want to explode. The kind I've felt before, at a few times in my life. He's protective of his friends. Of me. He's… he's human.

"Yeah?" I ask, still mesmerized by these new emotions I see in his expression, even right now.

"You want to work on a case with me, you've got it."

I smile. "Oh, that'll be a good distraction from this whole hoopla," I say, excited. "What's our case? Who did what to who? Husband and wife cheating scandal? Mother run off with pop star's money? What've we got?"

He almost smiles. I see it. He leans forward and looks at me seriously. "This case, Heather. Your case. I need your help. Because this time, he's not getting away."


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you, everyone, again, for all the awesome feedback!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ---Mac**

**Chapter 9**

I nearly choke on my sandwich as I process what he's just said. Cooper, I mean. He wants… he wants to work on a case with me! To _detect _things! Once again, with _me_! Heather Wells! We'd be partners! Like Maddie Hayes and David Addison! Like Cagney and Lacey! Like Lois and Clark!

This is it! This is the first step! Partners. Next step? Marriage. Ooh, my life plan is actually working!

"Earth to Heather."

I look at Cooper. "I agree," I say, excitedly. I've never agreed more with anything in my life. But I don't say that. I don't want to scare him off with my zeal.

"Agree with what?" he asks. "You kind of zoned out for a few minutes. I forgot what we were talking about." I think he's joking, because he has that look on his face, like he's slightly amused or something.

"I'm agreeing to be your partner in crime," I clarify for him. "This is going to be great! We'll be Wells and Cartwright!"

"Sounds like the name of a bank," he quips.

"So how exactly are we investigating? I mean… we have a suspect. Do we just follow him?"

"Not exactly."

"Maybe we should act like things are normal," I say, my mind fast at work. "I mean, he doesn't know what I'm thinking, that I suspect him of anything. So tonight, I can go over there—"

"—you aren't going anywhere near him. Not alone."

"But Cooper, it would be the ultimate disguise. I'm dating him. I could wear a wire and get him to talk or—"

"No," he says, in such a way that I don't open the argument back up for discussion at all. I can see that there's absolutely, positively nothing I could say that would make him agree to let me near that man on my own.

"This is going to be a tough partnership if you just throw away all of my ideas," I say lightly.

He sits back and smirks a little. "I'm sorry if my goal to keep you safe is getting in the way of your instincts to dive head first into trouble," he says, and I narrow my eyes at him at that.

"So what do you need my help with, then?" I ask, eager to get moving on our first case together.

"We'll go over that later," he says. "But you should know that part of the reason I'm partnering up with you on this case is because nothing could stop me from investigating it and I refuse to leave you alone. There really wasn't a way around it."

There goes my life plan, I realize dejectedly. Well, it was a nice dream while it lasted. I stand up and glare down at him, feigning annoyance. "You know, sometimes it's just nicer to lie," I say, before stalking away.

He stands up and immediately is in stride with me. And laughing! On the one hand, it's nice to see him laughing. He's had a pretty bad couple of days (I mean, come on, a half hour ago he was hitting a wall!) and his smile is so insanely handsome and beautiful and, for me, calming. On the other hand, however, I can't help but feel annoyed he's laughing at me! We've only just begun our life of detection as partners, and he's already making fun of me.

"I'm sorry," he says eventually, as we leave the deli. "I think it'll be great working with you."

"Well, don't overdue it."

"No, really. Your track record for getting your man is pretty good."

"It's one hundred percent!" I say.

"Right. Out of two cases," he adds quietly.

I stop and look up at him and he chuckles softly.

Man, if it weren't so nice to see that smile, I could be really mad at him for mocking my detecting skills in such a blatant way.

"Cooper?" a female voice says.

I look over and see a familiar-looking woman saunter over toward us.

"Marian," he says.

Then I remember… the night we were at the Pansy Award ceremony and I was unaware that my boss was the person I should have been trying to get dirt on, instead of the son of the president of the college, this woman, Marian, was there. She was being all cozy-like with Cooper, and he looked uncomfortable and upset. And unless I'm mistaken, he kind of looks upset to see her now, too.

I'm pretty sure they dated. And the last time I saw her, she looked upset by how their conversation went. So I'm not sure why she looks so happy to see him now. Again, he doesn't look that way at all. Happy, I mean. Maybe they saw each other after the Pansy Awards, to talk about things. Maybe they talked and made up. And then hooked up! Maybe it made her think they were getting back together, even though for him it wasn't like that at all!

Or maybe she's just happy to see him, and I'm spending way too much time reading into every little thing she's doing because she's kind of making me jealous. Because she's so totally more Cooper's type than I am, which means that I really don't like standing next to her. If you know what I mean.

"You remember Heather," he says to Marian.

"Sure. Heather. You're the dorm assistant," she says all snootily, quickly looking me up and down. You know, nonchalantly.

"Residence Hall," Cooper says, as defensively as I would've said it, if I'd had the chance. "Assistant Director."

"Oh," Marian says. "Well, nice to see you again," she says to me, like she means it or something. Which I know she doesn't. Mean it, I mean. She clearly wishes the ground would swallow me up so she can be alone with Cooper.

"You too," I say.

Then no one says anything. At all. Cooper looks around quickly, and Marian stares at him, probably thinking about all those times she tore his clothes off with her teeth. Lucky duck.

Since it's all very uncomfortable, I look at the ground. I mean, what else is there to do?

"So, what have you been up to lately?" Marian asks Cooper.

"Not much, really," Cooper says politely. "You?"

"Same," she says. Then she laughs. "This is all so formal."

He smiles, though I can see that the smile doesn't reach all the way to his eyes.

Marian looks at me. "Would you mind, Heather, if Cooper and I just had one minute alone?"

"Sure," I say, happy for an excuse to walk away from the awkward situation. I turn to do just that – walk away, I mean – when I feel a hand – Cooper's hand, I know without looking – grab mine.

He grabs it and holds it and I turn to look at him, curiously. "I'll just go over there," I assure him, pointing to a bench not twenty feet away.

He shakes his head and squeezes my hand gently, reassuringly, letting me know that I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying with him. By his side.

He turns to Marian. "This really isn't a good time," he says.

"Um, okay," she says, looking from him to me confusedly. "Well, when is?"

He sighs. "There's nothing more for us to say," he says to her, kind of awkwardly. It's awkward probably because I'm there, I realize. "So I don't think we need to make time to talk." They're harsh words, really, but he manages to say them in a really nice way. If rejection can be that. Nice, I mean.

"I see," she says. And then I see it. That look I saw that night. She's pissed at him. And from the way she looks at me, I think she may be pissed at me too. "Well, good seeing you," she says, though she doesn't look like she means that at all.

"You too," he says quickly. And then she turns on her heel and is off.

I look at Cooper and laugh, once we're alone again. "You know, I _am_ a big girl, Coop. I can sit on a bench and not cause any trouble," I say. "You could've talked to her."

"It's okay," he says. "Really."

"But… you have a life, Coop. You can't just abandon it. I mean, you keep pushing people away, when this case is over, you won't have a life left."

He looks down at me and studies me for a moment. "Heather, don't you know anything?"

I stare at him, not liking where this is going. "Huh?" I say, eloquently I might add.

"You want me to stop working on this case and live my life?"

"For a minute, yeah," I say. "I don't think it would hurt, that's all. I mean, I just want you to have a life to get back to when all is said and done."

He shakes his head. "Heather, if something happens to _you_ because I'm trying to live my life, my life's not worth much."

"Huh?" I say again. Because I'm not really sure what he's saying.

"Do I really need to tell you that you'rea huge part of my life? Marian… Well, without her, my life is normal. Without you…" he trails off, shaking his head. "I don't want to think about a life like that," he says quietly, looking down. When he looks back up at me, his gaze bores into mine and… I feel like he's telling me something important – something deeply personal – through his eyes.

"That's why this case comes first until it's over," he says, eventually. "I can't afford the consequences at risk here."

The way he's talking, it's like I _am _his life. But… that can't be true. I mean, I'm his friend, sure. But he has so much else going on! He actually went to college. He has lots of friends! Sure, his family is barely part of his life, but he has them too. And lots of girls that care about him. I think there must be girls he cares about or is currently dating. There's Frank and Patty… I mean, I'm not _special_ or anything. I'm just another person in his life! Although I _am _his roommate. I guess that makes us a bit closer than all those other people in his life. For now anyway.

I smile, completely happy by what he's told me, even if it is still a bit cryptic to me. Even if I don't know where I fall on his list of people he cares for. For him to say what he's said to me just makes me feel so happy and grateful.

"So what you're saying," I start, coyly, trying to lighten the mood, "is that I'm one of your favorite people in the world."

He laughs softly and shakes his head at me. "You really are," he says, smiling. He says the words in a light way too… and yet…

… I'm not entirely sure he's joking.

Is it possible to fall even more for someone when you've already known you're head over heels in love with them for awhile now? Because I think that just happened. I think I just fell for him all over again.

My cheeks burn as we walk in a peaceful silence through the streets of New York City. I find the bustling atmosphere oddly peaceful, with everything that's been going on in my life lately. Somehow it's more calming for me than total quiet would be. It's the noise of my city. The honking of the horns, the tourists walking aimlessly, yelling at their friends, the hustle… it's _normal_, and it's really relaxing.

I see our brownstone in the close distance and look at Cooper.

"I'm going to bandage up your hand when we get inside," I say.

"I'm fine," he says. "It doesn't need a bandage."

"Well… let me clean it out and take a look anyway," I say. "Please."

Five minutes later, he's sitting down at the kitchen table, and I'm pulling the First Aid kit out from under the sink.

I take his hand – it's his right hand – and look at it closely, running my fingers over it softly. Gently touching the cuts, looking at the dried blood. "This looks bad, Coop."

"It doesn't really hurt. It's okay," he says.

"You really didn't need to do this," I say. Suddenly I'm nervous because, you know… we're about to have it. The sex talk, I mean. I really don't want to talk to him about this, but… I have to. "The situation with Tad… I mean, it's not what you think."

I grab a wash cloth and gently rub it over the cuts. The dried blood washes away and all that's left are the cuts – which swell the skin around them – and redness. His nice hand is all cut up, because he thought a man who always vowed to make me his actually got me right where he wanted. Between the sheets.

Which he didn't.

I go to the sink and rinse out the cloth and see blood-colored water spill off of it. _Oh, Cooper. _

"I think that there's a good chance you're dating the man who threatened to kill you the other night," he says, his tone a good deal heavier than it had been outside, after lunch. After Marian walked away. "I think there's a good chance that you're dating a guy that once said he'd do—"

"—well, he didn't do anything," I say, cutting him off. I can't listen to Cooper say it. Say all the things that sick man from those letters had said so blatantly. Besides, the minute he started saying it, his fists curled into balls again. Here I am cleaning up his wounds, and he looks about ready to hit another wall.

"What do you mean?" he asks after a moment, not looking at me.

"We never… um… " I have no idea how to say it. "Well, um, we didn't… do… um… _that._"

There. That wasn't so hard. I just had to revert to the sixth grade way of wording it.

He looks at me closely. "Heather, I know what you're doing," he eventually says. "And… I really can't handle you lying so I feel better—"

"—I'm not lying!" I say. I take a step back and fix him with a serious look. I cross my arms across my chest. No more games. "We never slept together, Cooper," I say. "We kissed a little. We even made out some. We never had sex. So if this is the same guy, we never got around to doing… what he said… _you know_…"

He breaks our gaze and looks down, and I see his jaw clenching. "Are you… you're being honest?" he asks.

"Yes, Cooper. Don't you trust me?"

He nods and releases a long sigh of relief, before leaning forward and resting his arms on his thighs. He finally looks up at me. "Why are you telling me this?" he asks.

I let out a disbelieving laugh. "Well… I thought… I mean it seemed like you were…" I shake my head. "Never mind." Clearly he didn't care about whether or not Tad and I had gotten it on. I mean, why else would he ask why I was telling him this?

He stands up and takes a step toward me. "Tell me," he says in that soothing tone that could make me tell him anything. Everything. I could tell him about every hope I have for us, when he talks to me like that.

"It just seemed like the whole thing was making you crazy. And I felt bad. I didn't want you thinking that he made me his or whatever. Because he didn't. _We_ didn't. Have sex, I mean. Oh god. Oh man. Can you just shut me up? I mean, now that I think about it, you probably didn't even think about any of that, so I'm sorry, because now this is just awkward," I say in a rush, staring at the floor.

He places one finger under my chin and lifts my head up, forcing me to look at him. He smiles sympathetically. "No, you were right," he says quietly. "That _was_… making me crazy. Really crazy," he admits, under his breath. "Thank you for telling me."

I nod.

"I don't understand, though," he says. He puts a hand through his hair and takes a step away from me. I can see how totally uncomfortable he is right now, too. "I mean, you slept there all the time. What were you… why would you…" he looks at me. "Why did you stay there all the time?"

I shrug. "I guess I was trying to give the whole thing an honest go," I say honestly. "But… it never felt right. I always said 'no' and made something up. And he'd go to sleep and I'd stare at the ceiling usually, wishing I was home."

"But you kept going there," he says.

"I kept trying." I sit down at the kitchen table and pull out some Neosporin, gesturing for him to take a seat. He does. I take his hand back and gently rub the gel on his cuts. I stare at the cuts, while I talk. "I realized the other day – the last time I stayed there – that I didn't want to try anymore. My heart clearly wasn't in it. So why would I keep pretending?"

He says nothing for a long while as I turn all shades of red at the nature of the conversation. And he sits there, watching me fix up his hand. I can almost feel his eyes burning holes into me. He's studying me. He does that sometimes. Right now, though, I feel uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Not with how red I am! And this is new to me. I've never felt self-conscious around him before. It makes me feel like a school girl. Oh, I know, he always makes me feel like a school girl. But… this is different. I feel like something's shifted just now between us.

"I missed you when you'd stay there," he says quietly, breaking the silence. Breaking through my thoughts.

I look up at him, shocked by the admission. "Really?" I ask, unable to hide my hope at all.

"Yeah. I kind of missed hearing you play."

"What?" I ask, confused. But then my mouth falls open as realization dawns. He means play the _guitar. _"You _can _hear me!"

He nods. "Yeah. You play quietly, but… I can hear it when I fall asleep. The sound of your guitar means you're upstairs. You're safe. You're home." He sighs. "It's weird, really, because I lived here for awhile without you, without that sound. And I was fine. It was weird I'd miss something I went so long without anyway. But I did," he finishes. I see it's his turn to turn red now.

I smile. "I missed you too," I say.

We stare at each other for a moment, and I get lost in those blue eyes. I get lost in dreams of us kissing and living happily ever after, stalkers and bad guys far behind us.

"So," he says, breaking the moment. "What's the diagnosis, doctor? Will I live?"

I am thrown for a moment, until I see those blue eyes glance down at his hands on the table.

"Oh! Um, yeah," I say. "It was a close call, but in the end, I don't think we need to amputate after all."

He smiles. "Then perhaps it would be a good time to discuss our case, then," he says.

"Good call, partner," I say, which makes him shoot me a reproving look.

"Well, there are two things I think we should do right now," he says.

"One," I say.

"We investigate my old leads. The house he grew up in, talk to old neighbors, that kind of thing. See if we can prove it's Tad that way, while Barrett runs his check on the guy."

"Sounds good. Two?" I prompt.

"We draw him out."

"Barrett?"

"Tad," he says impatiently.

"Oh. Right. Well, how do we do that?"

"Based on what happened at the pool, it seems like jealousy is a good way to do that."

He walks away from me and stares at the kitchen cabinets with seemingly growing interest.

"Okay. How do I make him jealous?"

"Make him think you're dating someone else," he says.

"Okay," I say, trying to think of who I could hit on to make Tad really jealous. But I can't think of anyone! "Who?"

Cooper turns around and looks at me intently. He looks nervous. But then he smiles sweetly and shrugs casually. "Me."


	10. Chapter 10

**THANK YOU THANK YOU for all the feedback! Sorry for the delay in getting this next part up – I was away on vacation. I'm so excited every time I see one of your reviews! It keeps me going! I hope you enjoy the next part! --- Mac **

**CHAPTER 10 **

Did he just say "me"? I think he did!

_Me. Me! _ME! Me… oh my god, Cooper just said "me." I know what you're thinking. He just said "me", lady, get a grip. Right? But he said "me" as in he (aka "me") could pretend to be my… _deep breath… _boyfriend! Do you see why I'm freaking out? He will be my _boyfriend. _And, okay, I know it would only be pretend. But still… a single word really has never before made me so sublimely happy.

"Heather?" Cooper asks, because, you know, I've zoned out in a Jan Brady-like way in front of him. Again. Ugh. I have to get my act together if I want to convince him I could bear children that won't also constantly zone out.

I open my mouth to say the inevitable answer – an emphatic "yes!" of course – when something occurs to me. Something horrible. Something that leads me to say the single word that breaks my heart.

"No."

Cooper raises his eyebrows as something that looks almost like hurt flickers across his expression momentarily only to be replaced with a look of total confusion. He smiles sort of shyly and sticks his hands in his pockets. "The idea of being my girlfriend that awful?" he asks casually.

"What? No," I say.

_Just the opposite, in fact. _But I don't say that.

"You want to draw this guy out? Okay. But Coop, jealousy doesn't make this guy simply come forward and wave. It makes him kill! It did once. And if you think for one second I'm putting anyone… especially you… in that position, well you're out of your mind."

He never breaks my gaze and in his, I think he understands what I'm saying completely. He nods.

"Okay," he finally says. He leans against the counter and folds his arms across his chest. "I mean, I wasn't planning on being stupid. I just…" he trails off and looks at me squarely, a tortured expression on his face. "I came so close last time and he got away. I want him caught and as far away from you as possible. I figured, if it's my trap, then I control it when he walks into it."

He puts a hand in his hair and stares down at me, conflicted. "But okay, we'll figure a way to do this, then, that keeps us both – you and me – alive."

"That sounds like a plan," I say. "Because if you got yourself killed, I'd be really mad at you. Like unforgivably mad," I add.

He laughs softly. "I don't want that to happen," he says, walking towards me. He sits at the table. "I'll be careful."

"Good," I say. "I will too."

"Exactly what I like to hear," he says, smiling. "So… will you be my girlfriend?"

My heart starts hammering in my chest as he says in a completely playful tone – which _should_ deflate my hopes because, let's face it, the playful tone means only one thing: he's only asking as part of a ruse – the question I've been dying to hear forever.

And… I can't help it that it makes me blush. The question, I mean. I clear my throat, though, trying to seem casual, like this is a question I get asked all the time by lots of guys.

"Um… well, what's the plan? I mean, you said we'd think of a way that keeps you alive, and I'm really kind of attached to that plan. So let's have it," I say, sitting back, trying to will my face to return to its normal color, which only seems to make it redder.

"Well, at the pool for example, no one knew anything and couldn't save that poor guy. We have Barrett and the police behind us. And this time, I'll call for backup the minute I think I need it. I won't try to save the day all on my own. I won't be stupid, Heather. Not again. And… I'm ready for him. The guy at the pool – if he was killed and it was by Tad – couldn't have defended himself from an attack he had no clue was coming."

I look down and consider it. I did want the same thing as Cooper. To draw this guy out and just get him. Put him away. The sooner the better. And jealousy really was the perfect way to do that.

I look at Cooper, at his deep blue eyes that are filled with kindness, concern and friendship. That's probably all they'll ever be filled with when looking at me. And even though I desperately want more, I'm so lucky to have him look at me that way at all. He's one of my best friends and he's outright telling me that he's willing to put himself on the line to keep me safe. The thought makes me want to cry.

I mean, how did I get so lucky? How did I end up with such amazing people in my life? Cooper, Magda, Patty and Frank and even my dad! A couple of years ago, I would've said my mom and Jordan were the solids in my life, my rocks. But here I sit, in the kitchen of Cooper's home… which he opened to me, no questions asked. And yeah, he's just told me he'll do anything basically to keep me safe. He'll pretend to be my boyfriend. He'll protect me. He'll keep me safe. He'll be there for me always.

He's the solid thing in my life. One of the only solid things. One of my best friends. The man I love.

I stare still, into those blue depths. I look at a loose curl that hangs over his forehead. He hasn't had a haircut recently. I know he's meant to but hasn't had time. But I don't want him to get one. What I want is to put my hands in it. His dark, thick hair, I mean.

I don't want him to get hurt. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to him. And I really don't know how I'd be able to live with myself if something happened to him because of _me. _

"I don't know," I say. I shrug helplessly. "It's dangerous."

"Heather, this man has possibly killed a man. He said that _you're _next. If it's the same guy, then he's even crazier than he was years ago; his threats are bigger. This thing… it's already dangerous and I'm in it. I'm already in. I'm already ready to fight him the first chance I get. What you're agreeing to now is the chance to make it happen faster and for us to have more control."

I release a long, quivering breath. "You have to be careful."

"I said I would be."

"Promise me."

He pauses and looks into my eyes, and something in his softens, like he understands exactly why I'm having such a hard time. "I promise," he says.

"Then… yes," I say. "I'll be your girlfriend." I only say that last line because I'm pretty sure I'll never have another opportunity to say those exact words to him. I try to make them sound playful, like his question had been. But I'm not sure I succeed. "People won't buy it," I mutter.

"Yes they will," he says, sitting back, our intense moment over. "You live with me and honestly probably know me better than anyone."

"That doesn't mean that people will buy us as a couple. I'm the exact opposite of your type," I point out.

"What's my type?" he asks automatically, unflinching, not missing a beat.

"Tall, skinny, gorgeous neurosurgeons that can speak nine languages and swim with dolphins in their spare time," I say, images of every girl I've ever seen him with flashing across my mind, including the one we ran into earlier. "Marian," I offer, at that thought.

His face darkens a bit at the mention of her name. "Marian," he says. He looks at me. "Last year, my friend Cal set me up on a blind date with her because I was going through sort of a hard time. There was no chemistry. For me anyway. But I did try dating her a few times, just to be sure, and she seemed to think we'd make a great couple and got sort of… well, clingy. She wouldn't really leave me alone, and eventually I stopped answering her calls, which is why she's been a bit tense the last two times I ran into her."

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head and then finally looks at me again. "Everyone seems to think they know my type. But no one – and I promise you, _no one – _has a clue."

"But," I say carefully, "you always date the same _type _of girl. Whether those dates work out or not, you clearly are attracted to it. That type, I mean."

He smiles kind of sadly and shakes his head again, never breaking my gaze. "Take my word for it. It's not that simple. Any of it."

I look down, taking that in, wondering what the hell _is _his type, because now I'm back to square one. I have no clue what he likes! Although… I'm a little relieved – aka _a lot _relieved – to know that it's not one of those girls like Marian. Because that type of girl really is the exact opposite of me. It's definitely intimidating.

"Okay," I say. "But it still won't work."

"Why?" he asks.

"Coop, come on. You and I are just supposed to sell people on the idea that we're a couple. That we just up and started dating today? Out of the blue? We live together and know each other so well, sure. True. But we don't…" I start blushing again, fiercely. "We don't do _relationship _stuff. You say I probably know you better than anyone, but in that way, there are a lot of women that know you a heck of a lot better than I do. No one would buy it."

"I thought of that too," he says.

And now he looks uncomfortable. And… now he's turning red!

"So… Plan B?" I ask, trying to make him feel less embarrassed by changing the subject to something more comfortable.

He laughs incredulously. "You're giving up on Plan A just like that? Just because it's not easy? And when you're perfectly aware that it's the best plan we've got?"

"Well, the way I see it, we've got ourselves a little bump in the road on Plan A. It can't hurt to develop a backup."

He edges his chair closer to mine and I notice that his cheeks are still flushed with color and… he seems nervous.

I've… I've never seen Cooper nervous. And why… why is he sitting so darn close to me now? Not that I mind, I mean he's hot and he smells great. He's got that Cooper smell I could just get lost in…

"We don't need a backup," he says quietly.

Oh yeah, he's nervous. But why? We've sat closer than this watching movies. Oh god… do _I _smell bad? Oh man, I can't check. The way he's staring at me, he'd totally notice. Even if I was as nonchalant as I usually am about that particular matter.

"Then what do we need?" I ask.

And now, I'm not sure why, but I'm really nervous too. My heart is hammering so hard against my ribs, I'm sure it's about to bust out of my body. I have butterflies in my stomach – the kind you get when you feel like something different, something great… is about to happen to you.

"Practice," he says.

Um. He's staring at my lips. He's staring at my lips! Cooper… _is staring at my lips! _

And then I realize it. Something different and great is about to happen to me. I think. Maybe he just means we should practice staring at each other's lips. Maybe people in relationships do that. I don't really know. I mean, when I started dating Jordan, I was young. We just wanted to make out. And Tad's potentially a psycho, so I can't really compare him to the typical boyfriend…

"Hey," he says, calmly, taking my hand in his non-bandaged one. "You okay?"

I nod. God, I'm so much better than okay. I mean Cooper, the man of my dreams is holding my hand and staring at my lips! It's like a dream. It kind of feels like we're dating! I know if I saw him and me in a restaurant doing exactly this, I'd buy it. I'd so totally buy it.

He releases my hand and reaches his hand up to touch my cheek gently. He runs the backs of his fingers over the skin smoothly, carefully. It's barely a touch, but it sets my skin on fire. Once again, I'm completely blushing.

And I can't believe it, but my heart's actually beating faster now.

He swallows, and looks into my eyes, all that friendship and kindness I saw before shining through ten times stronger. "Can I kiss you?" he whispers.

His bandaged hand squeezes one of my hands reassuringly. And I realize… I'm going to get to kiss him! To kiss Cooper. He's asking so I'm not scared. And… and he's waiting. I'm _not _going to get to kiss him if I don't say something!

I open my mouth to say something great like "you never have to ask – kiss me any time you'd like, and by the way, can we just really date instead of pretend date because I know already that if my lips get to touch yours finally, I'll never be able to kiss anyone else ever again?"

But nothing comes out. So I just nod.

He runs his fingers once again over my cheek, and begins to slowly lean in. I'm paralyzed. I mean… this is Cooper!

Cooper Cartwright.

Oh my god.

He's leaning in.

He stops, though, just inches from my lips and stares into my eyes.

I breathe in and close my eyes and then, I feel it. He's kissing me. Softly. Gently. I can't breathe; I've never felt anything in the world like this moment in my life.

His mouth explores mine slowly and carefully – he's ever my sweet friend, gentle with me above all else – and I instinctively raise a hand and put it on his cheek. I feel stubble against my hand, which is such a turn on, let me tell you.

I can hear him breathing and realize something amazing. He's just as nervous as I am. And I'm nervous like a teenager. How can someone like him be that nervous too! He's a kissing expert. At least, I think he is…

… I have_ got _to stop thinking! COOPER IS KISSING ME!

_Me!_

I breathe in and edge just a little closer to him, and he puts his hands around my waist, deepening the kiss, moving past those gentle initial explorations into something more passionate.

But after only a few fantastic moments of that, he pulls away, staring down, his breathing erratic. He's not breathing hard, exactly, like I am… he's just… breathing in a totally sexy way.

"Oh god," he says under his breath.

I feel something inside me sink. "You didn't… was it bad?" I ask.

He looks up at me, clearly shocked. "What?"

"You said 'oh god'," I point out. "I'm sorry… I'm really not too experienced with all of this," I stammer nervously.

"Did you get the impression… at all… that I thought that was bad?"

I blush. Yes, again. "No, but… you were acting."

"Just because we're pretending doesn't mean that I'm a good actor," he says.

He stares at the floor, looking… shocked almost. Floored, even. And… something else that I can't put my finger on.

Before I can say another word, the doorbell rings.

I follow Cooper in a daze, thinking about those words. Trying not to fall over from the weakness in my knees from that totally exhilarating kiss.

I touch my lips, and realize that they're tingling and numb… yes, actually numb!

And despite the fact that we're only doing this because there's a jealous killer that wants me dead out there, I'm so completely happy right now.

Cooper stops before he answers the door and puts a hand through his hair and looks at me. His face is still completely flushed and only worsens when our eyes lock.

He answers the door. It's Barrett.

He's holding an envelope addressed to me… in magazine letters.

"Found this at your door," he says. "And—"

He breaks off and looks from Cooper to me, a tiny smirk forming. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No," we both say. Too quickly.

"You were saying something?" Cooper says to Barrett, ushering him inside, and taking the envelope out of his hands. He hands it to me.

"Right," Barrett says, taking a seat.

I begin to open the envelope.

"I did that search on this guy Tad—" 

I pull the new note out of the envelope, conscious of Cooper's eyes on me as I read it.

"—he's not—"

"Oh my god," I say, staring at the note, interrupting Barrett.

Both men look at me. And for once in the last hour, I don't blush.

I turn ghostly pale.


	11. Chapter 11

**THANKS EVERYONE FOR ALL THE FEEDBACK!!!!! I'm glad there are people out there reading that seem to enjoy this story! Sorry for the long wait on this update… I have really limited internet access right now. Hopefully it won't be so long to the next update. Thanks again for the feedback!!!!! --MAC**

**Chapter 11**

I stare at the note, feeling all color drain from my face. I'm no longer seeing the horrifying image on the paper or the words accompanying it. No. I'm imagining my predator, watching me, waiting to strike. Waiting to do _that… _to me. The hairs on my arms rise. I feel like he's right outside. Right now. And for the first time… I feel like he's really going to get me. I feel like Cooper and the New York police can't do a thing to protect me from him.

I can feel two sets of eyes burning holes in me. One pair of gorgeous blue pools belonging to one of my best friends, and another pair of kind brown eyes belonging to a cop that I was starting to believe couldn't do a thing to save me from the crazy author of these notes.

"Heather?"

I look up quickly and my eyes lock with Cooper's. Something on my face must show my complete panic because he immediately moves to stand right beside me.

"What is it?" he asks, touching my back.

I don't look at him. I hand him the note with a shaking hand. I can't look at Cooper while he looks at it; it's too embarrassing. It's too awful.

A feeling of complete nausea washes over me and I find I can't stay there, in that room, dealing with any of this for a moment longer.

"Excuse me," I say, and I quickly leave the room and run upstairs before he reads it. I hear him call my name once, but I get safely to my room on my own.

I close the door and look around. I see the warm comforter on the bed, suggesting a kind of safety I no longer feel at all. I see so many familiar things strewn about the room and I try to feel that safety – to grasp at it with everything I have and not let this guy win and scare me – but it doesn't work.

_That note…_

I shudder and close my eyes, seeing it behind my lids.

I see a picture of me in the top left corner of the paper; I remember this photo well. It was taken at a photo shoot years ago. And in it, I'm wearing – of course – the blue leopard print skirt. My right hip is jutted out to the side and my hands are on my waist. I look confident. Spunky. Young. I'd just turned eighteen when that picture – which has come back to torture me so much lately – was taken.

Right next to this picture, I see the other picture. The one that I can't stop thinking about. It's the same picture, only someone tampered with it so it looks like I'm wearing only skimpy, nearly see-through underwear and a bra. The image of a slashed up leopard print skirt is at my feet, and a gloved hand holding a knife is aimed at my chest.

The words to accompany the photos dance through my mind.

_Time's up, love. You're mine now… _

I lean heavily against the door and find myself eventually on the floor with my knees curled up against my chest. It's then that I start to cry. I really don't know why this is happening.

I mean, come on, I deserve a break! Like, _really_ deserve one. I had to suffer the embarrassment of my dad going to jail for tax evasion (just try ignoring the kids at school when something like this happens), as well as the public humiliation of my mother, manager, label and fiancée abandoning me in pretty quick succession.

I'm twenty-eight years old and I'm taking remedial math. I have a job that requires me to simply make sure a bunch of college kids get through the day alive and I can barely get through the day – any day – alive myself! I never went to college. I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I'm in love with a man who I finally got to kiss, and now I honestly just love him more because…

…well, because, my god, it was the most perfect kiss _ever. _For me, there was love in that kiss. I tried, of course, to just play along like it was all some game. But… it was Cooper kissing me. It wasn't a game at all. It was a real kiss. And for my part, there was real love in it. I just hope he didn't notice.

But now I know I'm just going to obsess about him even more, and get that much more upset when he makes it clear to me once again that I'm just a friend… that I can't be more to him. Ever. If I make it out of this situation alive, I mean.

I may not have to worry about my unrequited love and pathetic infatuation with Cooper because this guy seems to think that I'm about to die. Right now. Like ten seconds ago.

I realize I'm shaking. I can hear Cooper yelling downstairs at Barrett.

"It's not _his_ fault, Coop," I whisper to no one.

I turn my head so my ear's resting on the door and I can make out a couple of his angry words.

"… get my hands on him…"

"… can't get away with this… "

"… no, he's not getting anywhere near her!"

"…sick…"

"…undressed her like that…"

"… Did you see her face… "

I turn back towards my room, until Cooper's angry voice just echoes in the background. I can't hear words anymore… just the booming and comforting sound of him caring about me.

I stand up and walk towards my bed, and crawl under the covers. I pull the comforter over my head until everything is nice and dark. And I feel like for a moment I'm away from it all. Which of course is when I hear a knock, which brings me right back to reality. I know immediately who my caller is, even before I hear his voice tentatively call my name.

I pull the comforter down and poke my head out. "Go away," I say, before taking cover again.

"Heather," Cooper says. "Please. Can I come in?"

I say nothing, hoping he'll understand my message. You know, that I don't want any company, especially not from a man that just saw a picture of me half-naked (even if it was computer generated)… and especially when I'm hiding under a comforter, crying like a baby.

"Heather?"

Still, I say nothing.

_Go away, Cooper. Please._

He doesn't. After a moment, I hear the door open and feel a hand touch my shoulder through the comforter.

"Can't you take a hint?" I ask.

I hear him chuckle softly. "I guess not," he says.

I blink at the darkness, feeling my shoulder light on fire from his hand which still rests there and realize how pathetic I really am. My life's being threatened and I am in the midst of feeling very violated by the man who's threatening it, yet I'm turning to mush because the man I'm in love with is touching my shoulder _through a comforter. _

"You okay?" Cooper asks after a moment, when I don't surface from under the blanket or say anything.

"Fine," I mutter. _Great, _I think. _I'm back to lying to Cooper. _And he's supposed to be my "boyfriend" now. What a way to start a relationship! You really can't build a strong foundation on lies. I throw the comforter off me and blink up at Cooper, seeing worry in his eyes. He already knows I'm lying. Of course.

"Not fine," I say anyway. I sit up. "You know how yesterday I said that this whole thing sucks?" I ask.

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips, even as I see no trace of humor in his gaze.

"Well, I can't believe it, but today everything sucks so much more."

He puts the back of his finger lightly against my eye, wiping a tear that lingered, even though I wasn't really crying anymore.

"Heather, he's not going to touch you," he says, and I see his jaw clench in that sexy way. He's clearly trying not to get upset, but I can see that he is. "I _promise_. He's just a sick man," he says, looking utterly disgusted as he spits out those last two words, "who's trying to scare you. And he's doing a good job."

"Yeah he is," I agree. "Coop, believe me, I'd like to think that I'm braver than this, that someone like him, cutting out letters from magazines, and computer generating fake photos of me would piss me off and make me want to run outside, fists ready, and just get him already. But this guy has me hiding and crying," I say, swiping at my other eye to remove another tear. "I mean, what's wrong with me? This is pitiful; it's embarrassing," I say, rolling my eyes at myself.

"Nothing's wrong with you!" Cooper says angrily enough that I look up at him, alarmed. "That note… that was… you…"

He stands up and turns away from me, running a hand through his hair. And then I see it. The big-time jaw-clenching.

"Cooper…"

"No, Heather. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Your reaction is _normal_. That was… obscene and disgusting. It was a violation, an intrusion, of… " he trails off, sighing. "Your privacy. Your virtue," he finishes sadly.

And this, for some reason, makes me laugh. Which is just mean. I mean, here he is being so nice, making me feel better, and I'm laughing at him! How rude can I be, right?

"What?" he asks.

"My 'virtue'. I didn't realize we'd gone back to the nineteenth century," I joke.

He looks at the ceiling patiently and looks back at me, the beginnings of a smile forming. "Heather, you were like seventeen in that picture," he says.

"Eighteen," I say. "Only just."

"Either way. You were a kid. And that picture was _sick_."

"Well, I'm not a kid anymore," I point out. "So my reaction still remains of the embarrassing nature."

"Not really. It might not be you now, but it is you. And the note next to that picture? It was written now. So if this upset you… then you're _normal_," he says softly, sitting on the bed again.

And something in the way he says that makes my eyes start to well up. And being the amazing friend he is, he pulls me towards him when he notices this and I rest my head on his shoulder. And that's when I feel the thing that makes my heart feel like it's about to break. He kisses my forehead.

Oh, he's done this once before. Of course, the last time he did it was in a moment when he thought I was really out of it due to yet another near-death situation. Last time, I was sure he only did it because he knew I'd never remember it. Except that I did. Remember it, I mean. This time, though… he knows I'm not out of it. Sure, maybe I've been kind of crazy lately, but I'm not _out of it. _He's kissing my forehead knowing I'll remember it.

Another tear escapes as so many conflicting emotions dance through me. Fear, happiness, sadness, anger and love. Love for Cooper which – it would appear – only grows every time I see him. And that's pretty amazing because I see him constantly.

"Thank you, Coop," I say, closing my eyes and breathing in his comforting Coopery smell.

"For what?" he asks softly.

"Being here. Always being here. You've saved me so many times over. I don't know if you know how appreci—"

"—I know," he says, cutting me off. "You've told me," he goes on. "And you don't need to. We're… we've always been friends, Heather. You're very… important… to me," he spits out. "Of course I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"And that's why I _have to _say thank you," I try to explain.

"You don't—"

"What you said, Coop… you can't understand what it really means to me."

He pauses and squeezes me just a little tighter. "I think I can."

An hour later, I'm showered and feeling much fresher, like the ugly mood just washed away. I walk downstairs so Cooper and I can get to work finding this total jerk and putting him behind bars so we can go back to our normal life.

After my total meltdown, you see, came this anger. After Cooper wiped away my last tear and left me to freshen up so we could get to work, I had a bit of a reality check, which went something like this:

_I'm Heather Wells! I've stopped bad guys before. I've had lots of people abandon me. And I've survived after being left with nothing. I'm a strong person. I don't hide under blankets and cry helplessly wishing that someone would come and save the day for me. I save it for myself. I have before and I will again. And with someone like Cooper by my side – the truest friend and an even stronger person than me – I can do anything. This guy… he doesn't stand a chance. Let him threaten me. I'm not letting him win._

"Looks like that shower had healing powers," Cooper says, entering the living room, where I sit, ready to go and fight crime and put this psycho behind bars.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

He just stares at me and I look down at myself, feeling like in the midst of my self-help moment upstairs I'd forgotten to button my shirt of something. But I see nothing of the sort going on and meet his gaze, confused.

He smiles. "You just look better, that's all," he says. "It's good to see."

"Yeah," I say. "Sorry. Again, that was pretty pathetic up there."

He holds out a hand, cutting me off from saying another word in that vein. "That's not what I meant. You had a normal reaction. But right now… you look like _yourself_. You look like the girl that can handle pretty much everything."

He smiles again.

I stand up and follow him to the door.

"Okay, so the minute we step outside, Heather, we're in public," he says, turning to me at the door.

"Really? Is that why so many people are constantly _out _there?" I ask sarcastically.

"I mean," he says, like he didn't hear my tone, "we have no idea where he could be. But we do want to draw him out."

Then I remember. And the butterflies in my stomach prance happily to life. I try to keep my expression leveled however. "Right. Out there, I'm your girlfriend," I say, shrugging.

"Right," he says, nodding matter-of-factly.

Clearly neither of us is over the awkwardness from the post-kiss, pre-Barrett moment. We're both acting like this is a business transaction.

He opens the door and allows me to exit first, before quickly locking the doors.

He puts the keys in his pocket, while I scan the streets, looking for… well, something. Something suspicious. Someone creepy and capable of sick things. Because I live in New York City, I see about twenty things that fit both descriptions immediately.

Then I feel Cooper slide his hand into mine and interlock our fingers. I look down at our joined hands, marveling at how right it feels, even though it's so new.

"Let's go," he whispers.

We start walking, and I ask the inevitable question. "What did Barrett say?"

Cooper squeezes my hand reassuringly, still pulling me along in stride with him. "He really thinks this guy is definitely the same one from back then. He read all your old letters and the two new ones closely. There's more than just patterns going on here. Of course, he can't prove this. This new letter…"

He shakes his head and glances down at me quickly.

"It seems if you look at all his letters, he's obsessed with your appearance."

"I kind of noticed that," I say, blushing. "I wish he wasn't."

_Because all he says in his latest letters is that I need to lose weight, basically. And that's just embarrassing._

"I wish that, too," he says. "He seems obsessed now with wanting to make you what you were then," he continues. "Barrett can't figure out where this guy went for ten years, though. He may have gotten help and just recently fell off the horse, what with your resurgence in papers in the past year."

"Or maybe he realized I had too many bodyguards, and the only way to ever really get me was to change himself and get into my circle, far enough down the line that I'd never suspect…"

Cooper looks down at me, shock written on his face. "Definite possibility," he eventually stammers out.

"Don't make a bad partner, do I," I joke.

"Not at all," he says.

"Could be a combination of your theory and mine. Maybe he genuinely changed himself, tried to better himself and thought if he did that, I'd… I don't know, fall in love with him. But maybe he's also really sick. Obsessed. And if it's Tad… it didn't work. I never gave into what he wanted. I hated the gym, didn't want to change for him and didn't fall in love with him; I never let him do anything more than kiss me. So his plan didn't work, and then he, like _flipped. _Went back to crazy and obsessive…"

Cooper nods and clenches his jaw again. He laughs after a moment. "You're better at this detective thing than I gave you credit for," he admits.

I smile knowing he has no idea how happy that comment just made me.

"What did Barrett say about Tad? I know before I freaked out and ran out of the room that he mentioned him."

He sighs. "He said he doesn't exist, basically. The man has no record. Of anything. He has no past. The college he put on his resume when he applied to be a professor at New York College… he didn't go there. At least not by that name. He lied about all the experience he claimed to have, too. Looks like your school needs to actually start _checking _references. You might want to bring that up to Human Resources when this is over."

"Okay," I say, processing this. "So Tad Tocco does not exist," I say.

"His name doesn't exist," Cooper corrects. "He's created a persona, it looks like, to get close to you. He, uh… he started about two months after you did."

I swallow. "I mean, it looks like he's the man."

"Looks like," he says, squeezing my hand again.

Cooper stops and looks down at me. I look up at him.

"And he could be anywhere right now, watching us," he whispers.

He touches my face with his hand and puts a strand of hair behind my ear. He leans slowly, pausing once again, just inches from my lips to stare into my eyes, as if asking permission.

And just like the first time we kissed, I close my eyes, granting him permission. Now, forever, whenever.

His lips touch mine and it feels… amazing. I can feel a light breeze blowing through my hair, as he pulls me tighter against him, the gentle kiss intensifying just a little.

He pulls away eventually and rests his forehead against mine, his breathing quick, his eyes still closed.

"Now it's my turn to say 'oh god'," I say, smiling, trying to urge my pulse back to normal.

He smiles and kisses my forehead – yes, again! – and takes my hand again, continuing our walk.

"You're good at that," I say. Even as the words come out of my mouth, my cheeks flush a deep pink. I can't believe I said that out loud.

I mean, it's true, but… oh god. I'm such a total moron.

To my astonishment, he squeezes my hand and runs his thumb over it softly, and smiles down at me, his cheeks a bit pink now too. "You are too," he says.

And then he looks away immediately, and swallows.

We get to the lot and into his car, not saying much more and begin our drive into New Jersey.

Cooper puts on jazz music, his favorite, as possibly a way to calm us both down. The last two days have been an emotional rollercoaster, and a peaceful drive to Ella singing about the bayou is pretty perfect right now.

"Cooper, be honest," I say, breaking a long, comfortable silence after a while. "How much business are you losing because of this case?"

"I'm not losing business," he says. "Besides, I told you before, this is more important. Right now, this is my number one priority."

"But… you were in the middle of a case when all of this happened."

"It's okay," he says, staring at the road. "And your father's doing a pretty good job wrapping up some of the cases I was on."

"I think you know it bugs me that you let my dad in on your cases and not me," I say, looking sideways at him in time to see him smirk.

"It bugs you?" he says. Although I know perfectly well he knows it bugs me.

"Yes, and you even told him not to tell me anything!"

"Clearly I had reason to warn him, if you found out I told him that," he counters.

I huff and cross my arms over my chest and look at the scenery passing by outside as we leave the City behind us and cross into Jersey.

"How about just one case. Can you tell me about _one case _you're working on?"

He shakes his head but laughs. "You're tenacious. I'll give you that."

"Oh, that's nice. Dogs are tenacious, Cooper."

He laughs quietly as the jazz music buzzes in the background. I'm feigning annoyance because really… this whole thing – us playfully arguing, listening to music… it's so wonderfully normal. I love it.

We finally arrive at our destination. "Is this it? This is where my old stalker lived?"

"Yeah," Cooper says, as we walk up the front steps. "Mr. Seymour Haggleman. It's abandoned now. I checked."

_Seymour Haggleman, _I think, as I follow Cooper. Such an ordinary, plain name. Such a normal house.

Such a sick man…

A few swift maneuvers, and Cooper's managed to open the door and we're in. He grabs my hand and turns on his flashlight.

The place clearly is abandoned. There are cobwebs everywhere, wooden paneling on the walls, which are blank except for a bear's head, which kind of freaks me out.

"He won't hurt you," Cooper whispers playfully.

"Ha ha," I say.

We find nothing and start to leave, which is when Cooper feels something – I don't know what – beneath his right foot.

He kneels over the floorboard and shifts it, and much to my surprise, this particular piece lifts up, revealing a hidden stash of something, though I can't see what.

Cooper flashes his light on the items in the hole beneath the floor and I feel something twist in my stomach as I notice my own face in there. There are pictures… many pictures… of me in there. He pulls them aside. I see that damn blue leopard print skirt in so many of the pictures. I see other computer-generated photos… possibly for future notes to me. I see plastic bags with more magazine letters in them – not placed into words yet though.

Cooper's face is serious as he looks at the pictures. Deadly serious. It's his detective face. Not his friend face, though in the serious I see a tiny fleck of the anger. And that's all friend.

"What's that?" I ask, noticing him staring at one picture in particular.

He shows it to me and shines the light on it. It's him. The guy. From years ago. He computer generated himself into one of my pictures, so it looks like we're posing together. From the looks of it, he's standing where Jordan had been, so it's like we're dating.

This guy in the picture… he's dorky and tall and lanky, with dark hair and pale skin. But still, there is something familiar.

I try to imagine him muscular, blonde, tan and handsome. It's hard. It's not a good picture.

It's hard when I'm focusing on the picture as a whole. I try to focus in on each feature. The eyes. Are they Tad's eyes?

It's hard to tell with the glasses…

The nose… well, he could've had that fixed…

The smile…

And that's when I see it. The something that's familiar, I mean. It's there. In that wicked smile. I know that smile.

I take a deep breath. "It is Tad," I admit.

The drive home is relatively quiet. At first, Cooper calls Barrett to fill him in on what we found, and from the sounds of it, Cooper gets an earful about how we're supposed to leave the policework to, you know, the police, and how Cooper must be hanging out too much with me, because apparently Canavan told Barrett that poking around into police investigations was classic me.

I go upstairs when we get home, put my pajamas on, and crawl into bed. Except that I can't sleep.

I mean, it's one thing to think that your boyfriend might be your stalker, someone threatening to kill you. It's another thing to know for sure. It's definitely enough to keep you awake, staring at the ceiling.

A noise outside makes me jump, and I realize I'm not going to get any sleep this way.

I take my blanket and pillow and head downstairs, into the living room. I'm careful not to make much noise, but the floorboards do creak a little. Darn old brownstones.

I lay on the couch and feel a little safer, since I can see Cooper's room. His light's off and he's probably halfway on his way to dreamland right now.

Always out to prove me wrong, I see his light turn on and I still, pulling my blanket closer to my chest.

His door opens and he steps into the living room, toward me.

"Heather?" he whispers.

"Um… yeah?" I answer.

"I thought that was you," he says. "Why are you down here?"

"Couldn't sleep? Thought the couch might help… it's really comfortable," I lie. My dad and I constantly make fun of how totally uncomfortable this couch is, in front of Cooper.

"Listen, why don't… " he trails off.

"What?"

"Look, I'm too nervous to fall asleep, because I feel like if I do, something might happen to you upstairs. And you're too scared to sleep too," he says, all in a rush. "Why don't you come in here so we can both just sleep," he says.

I say nothing. I think I actually just died. I mean, did Cooper just invite me into his bed?

_Oh. My. God._

"I promise to be a perfect gentleman," he says, playfully.

_Damn._

"Okay," I agree regardless. I know, as well as he does, that this is the only way either of us will get any sleep tonight.

I stand up and grab my pillow and walk into his room.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks for the feedback! And sorry again for taking so long to post again. I hope you enjoy the next part! ---MAC**

**Chapter 12.**

Okay, I have to admit something. I've pictured this before. Cooper inviting me into his bed, I mean. I know, I know, I'm pathetic. I think we've already figured out that I'm a schoolgirl with a schoolgirl crush, and so to fit that persona even more, I'm admitting that I have spent, oh, quite a lot of time sitting around picturing in great detail every romantic fantasy that I have about Cooper.

In my imagination, Cooper and I are kissing and it's romantic and soft and _perfect. _The main thing to note from this lovely scene is that Cooper and I are kissing of our own free will. We kiss because we want to kiss. Not because some jealous psycho is trying to kill me and we have to trick him out of hiding so we can catch him and go back to our platonic (aka loveless) lives in which we live under one roof but in two separate bedrooms.

In my imagination, Cooper breaks the kiss and breathlessly whispers that he loves me. He takes my hand and he leads me (or, if I choose in my fantasies to have just dieted, carries me) to his bedroom. And then… well… and then, I try to stop imagining anything, because Cooper's my friend, and it's wrong to think of friends like that. You know. Naked. Making, um… _out_. With me. Or anyone for that matter. So I try really hard not to go there. I try to end the fantasy at the doorway to his bedroom.

_And Cut. The End. _You know.

I'll admit that sometimes my mind sends me flashes of more fantasy, but that's it. Just flashes.I swear!

So anyway… yeah, I've pictured it. Being led into his bedroom, I mean. And it's never gone quite like this. With him asking me to sleep in his bedroom very uncomfortably and formally and then promising to be a perfect gentleman, assuring me that my presence in his bedroom is the _only_ way the two of us could ever get to _sleep. _

It's just a bit less romantic than my imaginings.

And yet… in this situation, it's perfect and sweet and just so Cooper. I mean, never in a million years would Cooper actually ask me to sleep in his room for _any _reason. Ever! But… he's worried about me right now. In the past couple of days, he's made that very clear. Crystal clear.

He didn't whisper he loved me in that romantic way or anything. But… I know at this moment, as I walk toward him, and his bedroom, that he does. Love me, I mean. Cooper Cartwright loves me, Heather Wells. In his own way. In a platonic way. And that really is enough. In many ways, it's even better than those romantic movies in my mind starring Cooper and me.

… although, fine, okay, if he ever tells me that he loves me in that other – more romantic – way, I'd be one foolishly giddy lady! You caught me.

"Here, I'll get that," he says, walking past me to grab the blanket off the couch, since I only really grabbed the pillow. I guess I was just in a rush, you know, to get to his bedroom. Who can blame me for that?

"Thanks," I stammer, as he walks past me and I snap out of all my thoughts and finally notice something _major _that I can't believe I missed before!

He's _shirtless!_

And I can't help staring at his naked chest as he walks past me. My mouth falls open as I try to quickly take it all in nonchalantly. He's wearing sweatpants, and nothing else! I'm seeing Cooper… hot Cooper!... in all his muscular, tanned glory! Tufts of masculine, dark hair cover his beautiful expanse of chest, which is so sexily toned. And he's toned like someone that just runs a lot and gets exercise. He doesn't do gyms. I know this because I live with him, but looking at him, you can just tell. I mean, he's not all bulging biceps and perfect definition. He's not V-shaped. He's…

… perfect.

Honestly perfect.

As he bends down to grab the blanket on the couch, I see his back, which is also perfect. Toned, like the rest of him. And while he's lightly tanned, you can see a definite difference in his forearms and shoulders. Cooper's not a beach person. His chest is a little tanned from being in the sun occasionally shirtless, but mostly his arms and face sport that perfect tan, and as you get closer to where his clothing goes, it all fades. And that's just so cute, I can't even explain!

I'm not going to be able to share a bed with him! As it is, I want to rip his clothes off with my teeth when he's fully dressed in multiple layers! How am I supposed to _sleep _inches from him, knowing such godly perfection is right beside me. Him being such a good friend and so kind and giving to me only makes it worse. It's like sleeping beside Superman! Or Clark Kent, rather: a god-like but _real_ guy.

And to think, I came downstairs because I was staring at the ceiling in my own room and couldn't fall asleep! What a solution, laying next to my number one all-time fantasy. That'll put me _right _to sleep. Sure.

I mean, he's seriously everything I want. He's the only one I want. And I truly believe he's the only man I'll ever want.

I sigh sadly, as something in my stomach tightens and I get a sinking feeling that he does notfeel quite so deeply for me.

"What's wrong?" he asks, walking back over to me, his brows furrowed in concern. A look I'm beginning to know well. I wonder why he thinks something is wrong; I thought I'd sighed softly, but obviously I'd failed. "Is this okay with you?"

Sleeping in his bed? "Oh, it's fine," I say. "More than fine. It's great. You know, I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner."

_Oh my god, shut me up._ I'm doing that thing again. You know, when I get nervous and say basically anything to Cooper, including really moronic things like "I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner." My god, who _says _that?

He smiles and I smile back at him. I try to hold his gaze with mine, but I can't do it. I can't hold it. Try as I might, I can't stop my gaze from dropping to that perfect chest, which is sort of obscured by my blanket. Note to self: buy a skimpier blanket. Bulky ones may keep me warmer, but skimpier ones reveal more _chest!_

And at this very moment, that's important.

He walks past me with the blanket and I look down at myself, to see if I'm scantily clad like him or wearing anything that might drive him crazy with desire and am horrified to see that earlier tonight, I opted for my pink Superman pajamas. Of all things!

That's just great. Well, I guess I don't have to worry about him having trouble _just_ sleeping. When I look over at him, I see that he's put a shirt on.

_Fantastic. I've made him uncomfortable because I'm so socially inept and totally obviously ogled him a minute ago. "More than fine". "I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner."_

Now he's uncomfortable with me. And why not? I'd so totally not want to go anywhere near me if I were him. Or anyone for that matter.

"Is this okay with _you_?" I ask him.

He looks at me, a confused expression on his face, and then smiles. "Yeah," he says, shrugging, seeming genuinely baffled that I'd even ask.

And that's reassuring, anyway.

I climb into the bed on the side where he put my pillow and blanket – which, incidentally, is the side I sleep on – and crawl under the blanket quickly. I rest my head on the pillow, and a feeling washes over me. I feel really calm. I'm in Cooper's bed. I mean, I should feel nervous. Uncomfortable. Weird.

But I don't feel any of those things. I just feel calm and safe.

I glance up, seeing Cooper standing by the bed, looking down at me, a funny, almost thoughtful look on his face.

"What?" I ask.

He blinks, as if breaking himself from a trance. "Nothing," he says quickly. He smiles reassuringly, climbs into the bed and then turns the light off. I feel him move around a little and settle in, as my eyes adjust to the dark. His room seems darker than mine.

"Thanks. For this, I mean. For letting me crash here," I say.

"Sure," he says, quietly.

I turn on my side and sigh contentedly and try really hard not to think about Cooper shirtless. And that's hard – even though it's dark now and the last time I looked at him, he had a shirt on – because the image of him shirtless has sort of burned itself into my memory.

"Is this weird for you?" I ask him suddenly, the question just sort of popping into my head.

I hear him chuckle softly. "Not really," he eventually says. I hear him rustle around a little to get comfortable. "You?"

"No," I say honestly, marveling at how strange it is that it's not weird. "It's kind of like when we used to have those slumber parties. Remember those?"

"I wouldn't exactly call crashing at my parents' house while my brother and his girlfriend made out on the couch a slumber party," he says.

"We wouldn't make out when I'd sleep over," I say, defensively.

"Heather, my brother would be all over you when you'd stay over."

"But he was usually a little tipsy when he'd act like that," I say, laughing. "That's why I'd stay. No one to drive me home. It didn't happen that often, anyway."

"True."

"And I would sleep in his room, and he would stay out on the couch," I add.

"Also true," he says. He laughs.

"What's so funny?"

"You," he says. "You seem to… worry… about what I think about you, how I've always perceived you."

"I do," I admit quietly. "Worry, I mean. Your opinion is probably the most important one to me. I wouldn't want you to think—"

"I don't," he says, cutting me off. "I've never thought anything bad about you. You guys were kids. Teens. Teens make out. It's okay. And," he adds, his voice dropping a little, "I know you used to insist on sleeping separately at my parents' house. I remember." He sighs. "Heather, you were a good kid."

I smile in the darkness. He's saying everything so playfully and light, but I can hear the sincerity in his words.

"I remember thinking that, back then. On those nights, when we'd all hang out."

"Thinking what?" I ask.

"That you were a good kid. A nice girl."

Oh great, I'm back to being a nice girl. I don't want to finish last!

"You thought that about me back then?" I ask, shocked.

"Yeah," he admits nonchalantly. "I thought it was all a shame. You were a really nice, funny girl. But I just figured the fame, the money, the glamour, the business would all ruin you and change you like it changed everyone else in my life that got sucked into that world."

My mind strays to my mother, and I think about how all those things had managed to change her. She wasn't even in the limelight or anything. But greed and wealth… it all took over. One day, my caring, doting, complimentary mother was gone. The business had taken my place in her life as the most important thing.

I stare in Cooper's direction, thinking about how in some ways, we're really not all that different.

"It didn't, though. You never changed. Not one bit. Everyone else did. Your mother," he says, and I start, wondering if I'd said my thoughts out loud before, "your boyfriend…. Hell, my whole family."

"Except you," I add.

"Except me, yes," he says, sounding once again like he's smiling. "That just makes this whole thing so much worse," he says, sounding frustrated.

"What do you mean?"

"You never changed and bought into the fame and glitz and all of that. But you have to pay this high price for it anyway. Someone out there is scaring the hell out of you, and you didn't do a thing – _ever_ – to deserve it."

I smile again at Cooper, as – once again – his words touch me. "Thanks, Coop."

"I mean it," he says quietly, after a beat.

I yawn loudly – the way I do when I'm by myself, and catch myself mid-yawn.

He laughs at that. "Tired?"

"Yeah," I admit. "I actually feel," I begin, yawning again, "like I could fall asleep."

"Good," he says. I can almost hear him smiling. "You should sleep."

"Mmm," I purr, as exhaustion overwhelms me and my body begins to relax. Thoughts of Cooper kissing me earlier in the day, and smiling at me shirtless just moments ago swirl in my head and I fall, finally, asleep.

The next morning, I wake up to a noise. I can hear a voice – a familiar voice – somewhere nearby. In another room. I open one eye and realize immediately that I'm not in my room.

Then I remember – happily – that I'm in Cooper's room. That we slept together. Though by that, I actually mean that we _slept _together. Cooper of course kept his word and was a perfect gentleman. I don't remember any foul play. Just lots of… sleeping.

I see he's no longer in the room. The voice I hear outside isn't his, though. Groggy as I am, I feel like I can safely say the voice belongs to Jordan.

As in my ex-boyfriend and Cooper's brother, Jordan.

I get out of bed and slink to the door, and try to listen to what he's saying.

"Just tell me what's going on, Cooper," he says. He sounds aggravated.

"Not your business," Cooper says. He sounds calm. Casual. Cool. Totally Cooper.

"It is my business. You're my brother. Heather's my…" he trails off, and I find myself leaning forward. I mean, what could Jordan possibly think we are? We are exes. It's simple. But he doesn't seem to have a word for it. What we are, I mean.

I hear Cooper laugh. "She's your what?" he asks, like he's amused, and immensely interested in the answer.

"We have history, Cooper. It's complicated. It's always been complicated."

Cooper laughs again. "Okay."

"What?" Jordan asks, in a frustrated tone, sounding exactly like he used to when he'd get mad at his brother years ago. In that time in which Cooper refers to us as "kids".

"Heather's your ex. And history, in case you don't remember, means that what you guys have is in the past. And you're married now, so I don't see why you're—"

"—because this isn't right! This isn't… I can't believe you guys are doing this," he says.

Cooper says nothing after that. Jordan says nothing. And I… well, I'm curious.

I stalk out of Cooper's room. "What's going on?" I ask

Jordan stares at me, his mouth falling open in shock. Pure, unadulterated shock. I look down at myself to see if I'm undressed or something, but see that my Superman pajamas are in tact.

I look at Cooper and see him smiling, but looking like he's trying not to, and definitely trying not to laugh.

"What?" I ask, looking from one brother to the other.

"You're sleeping together?" Jordan asks, his voice dropping to a whisper, dripping in that shock that's still written all over his face.

I open my mouth to say something, but can't get anything out. I look at Cooper, my eyebrows shooting up.

We didn't work out our story. You know, what we say to people that ask us about our new "relationship". Do we pretend with everyone? Even family?

Cooper smiles at me – a sort of secret smile, the kind that makes me feel calm – and holds a newspaper out to me.

"What's this?" I ask, grabbing the paper. But no one has to say anything because realization dawns as I stare at the front page of the entertainment section of the paper.

There's a picture of Cooper and me kissing on the streets of New York along with the headline:

**FORMER TEEN POPSTAR STEAMS UP THE STREETS OF NEW YORK**

"Oh my god," I say. I wasn't planning on _this. _We were supposed to draw the stalker out! Not journalists and photographers and newspapers and my ex-fiancee and basically everyone _but _the stalker!

"Care to explain this, Heather?" Jordan asks me.

I look up at him, confused, wondering why he's here, why he even cares about who I'm dating or what I'm up to. Why is he more or less _demanding _an explanation? I open my mouth to say something of the sort, but Cooper beats me to it.

"I told you, this doesn't concern you. It's none of your business."

"None of my business?" Jordan asks, incredulously, looking… well, really mad. "Heather and I dated for ten years, Cooper. _Ten years. _And you're supposed to be my brother."

"Once again, you're married now. Life's moved forward. The ten years you guys were together are behind us all now. So _this,_" Cooper says, gesturing quickly to himself and me, "really isn't your business."

Jordan looks at me and shakes his head. He looks just so mad! I can't figure it out. "I told you, Heather, when you moved in with him that it was a bad idea. I told you!"

"I still think it was a pretty good idea, seeing as I had nowhere to live."

"Yes, you did," he reminds me.

"Did you think I had no pride or something?" I ask, getting pretty peeved myself now. "That I'd walk in on you and Tania doing… what you were doing," I say, uncomfortably, "and just go home and wait for you with a hot dinner and a smile?"

"You could've forgiven me and then worked with me to fix it. To fix us," he says.

"I didn't want to do either of those things," I say quickly. "We were over long before I walked into that room. We just hadn't ended it."

Jordan stares at me after that, not sure what to say. "All the same," he continues through gritted teeth, after a long moment, "moving in here with _him _was a bad idea."

"Why? He's always looked out for me. He's been nothing but a fantastic friend to me. So why would my living with him be a bad idea? In case you don't remember, my mom took off with everything I have. You cheated on me," I say. I sneak a peak at Cooper and see him staring at his brother, clenching his jaw. "I had nowhere to go, and for a second I thought I had no one. Cooper… he called me immediately. And without a second thought, he opened his house to me. He's unwavering as a friend. And I'd be…" I look at Cooper again. "I'd be lost without him."

Cooper smiles softly, appreciatively, at me.

"Fine," Jordan says. Though he doesn't look it. Fine, I mean. "But Heather, don't be naïve about him." He's talking about Cooper like he's not even in the room! And like he's some kind of bad person. It's all starting to annoy me.

"Whatever, Jordan."

"You know his type as well as I do. It's not you, babe."

My cheeks flush. I know this all too well. And sure, Cooper gave me that whole spiel yesterday about how no one knows what his type really is, but thinks they know. But I still know that it's not me.

"Don't call me that," I stammer to Jordan, not meeting anyone's gaze.

"You've definitely overstayed your welcome," Cooper says to Jordan. "Let's go." He gets up and walks towards the door.

Jordan follows, but stops at the door and turns to face us. "I know I'm married now, and I _am_ happy. You both seem to think this means, though, that I shouldn't think this whole thing here is weird, or is sending red flags up for me. It doesn't. The idea of my ex with my brother freaks me out. So sue me. And Cooper, you may have been the one to save her when I failed, but if I find out you're just using her to make one of your girls – your real girls – jealous or something, so help me—"

"—do you even know me at all?" Cooper interrupts. He sounds annoyed now.

"Yeah, I do. I know that whatever's going on isn't real."

"You don't know anything," Cooper says.

"I know that she doesn't deserve to be used."

"She doesn't deserve a lot of things," Cooper says, and I see his jaw-clenching is now out of control. "And _didn't _deserve a lot of things."

He looks pointedly at his brother at that last comment.

Jordan rolls his eyes, looks disgustedly at both of us, and walks out the door. Cooper shuts the door behind him and puts a hand through his hair. He looks at me.

"Sorry about that," he says. "I know it's not the best way to wake up."

"No," I agree. "But, um, it's okay. Sorry you had to fight with your brother."

"Why are you sorry?" he asks, leading me into the kitchen.

"Everything seemed okay enough before I came out and joined the conversation."

Cooper laughs as he grabs a bowl and hands it to me. "Seeing you walk out of my bedroom did kind of push him over the edge, I have to say."

"Yeah," I agree, trying to laugh with him. But I can't. I can't ignore what Jordan said, about how whatever's going on with Cooper and me isn't real. He's right. I mean, was I not lost in thoughts of us kissing last night as I fell asleep? I was. I so was. And for a moment, I think I had hope. Actual _hope_! But it's fake. This whole thing. It's all fake. It's a pretense. Just like Jordan said.

"Heather." He waits until I look at him. "Don't listen to him." He grabs cereal, milk and a spoon and puts it on the table for me. "He's being territorial, and he has no right."

"He's not totally off-base. He sees us kissing in a picture and automatically he assumes something's up, that it's not real. Because he knows your type! I told you yesterday that this would happen. That people wouldn't believe that you'd date me."

He stares at me for a long moment. "And I told you they would," he says, after a beat. "Here's the thing about Jordan, Heather," he says, putting both hands through his hair, as he grabs a chair next to me and I dig into my cereal. "He doesn't know me. He really doesn't. He doesn't know my favorite foods or television shows or movies or things to do when I'm bored. He doesn't know that when I go to the movies, I always get Sour Patch Kids and a large popcorn. He doesn't know that I put a hand through my hair when I'm nervous or flex my jaw when I'm pissed and trying to keep my cool. I bet if you ask him, he doesn't even know what color my eyes are."

He looks seriously at me. He knows I know. All of it. Everything. He must know I study him, study every detail about him. He must think I'm a stalker!

"When he says things about me, I just want you to remember the most important thing. He's known me about twice as long as you have and doesn't know me even half as much as you do. And this isn't just because _we_ live together. You probably knew more about me the third time you met me than he ever did."

I chew on my Rice Krispies and stare at him as he talks.

"He's the last person in the world you should listen to when the topic is me."

"Who should I listen to?" I ask.

"You know me, Heather."

I stare at him, wondering what he means by this. What exactly does he think I know? I mean, sure I know everything I can possibly know through observation, and I know his character and personality. But… most of the time, I'm dying to know things about him. Dying to know what he's thinking when he makes those completely, frustratingly unreadable expressions. Dying to know what he does, you know, when he goes to work. See, there are all these things I have no clue about.

But I nod, all the same, and continue eating my Rice Krispies.

"But there is one thing—" he starts, but there's a loud bang upstairs, and he stops. He looks at me, and I can see fear in his eyes. I'm nearly choking on my cereal!

"What was that?" I ask. "It sounded like it came from my room." I can hear the fear in my own voice. Is there someone in our house? In my room?

"Stay here," Cooper says.

He runs into his room, comes out with a bat, and heads upstairs.

"Yeah, right," I say, and get up, following him. I mean, honestly. Talk about knowing someone! Doesn't he know that I never do what he says?

I get to the top of the stairs, and nearly bump into him as he runs from my room.

"I told you to stay down there," he says, sounding annoyed.

"Since when do I listen?" I ask.

"Don't move!" he yells, running past me and down the stairs.

I stand there, and wrinkle my nose. Is that smoke I smell? Oh my god. I take a step toward my room and gasp. I see a flame!

I feel someone move me out of the way – Cooper, of course. He runs into my room, fearlessly, and I hear a noise.

Fire extinguisher.

I stand frozen to the spot in the upstairs hallway, until an eternity later, he exits my room, takes my hand, and leads me back downstairs.


	13. Chapter 13

**Sorry for the delay! I couldn't get an internet connection! Thank you everyone who's still reading. Your comments keep me going! ---MAC :) **

**Chapter 13**

"We have to go," Cooper says, as we reach the landing. He's tugging on me, leading me to the door. But… I can't go. Not right now. Not like _this_. I'm wearing pink Superman pajamas!

"No! Cooper, stop! What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you about it on the way," he says, without looking at me.

"Is someone upstairs?" I ask. Although I assume there's not. Someone upstairs, I mean. I'd have heard a fight. Cooper had a bat, and he looked ready to use it! So I know there was a fire, and I assume there was not a person. Besides… who would go into a room and then set it on fire? If that's what happened. I mean… I heard a bang and saw a flame. A single – albeit _large – _flame.

"No," Cooper confirms for me. "But we have to leave. He's outside somewhere."

"So you want to head outside? Knowing he's out there somewhere?"

He doesn't seem to be listening to me. So I wave my hand in his face.

"Cooper. Come in, Cooper."

"If you'd been in your room…" he says, trailing off.

He still hasn't looked at me. He's holding my hand, moving toward the door more slowly now, and seems to be in some kind of trance.

Or nightmare.

"Coop, what was it?" I ask, my voice a mere whisper.

He looks at me. His eyes… they look haunted.

"It looks like he broke the window with a brick, and then shot an enflamed bow-and-arrow through it," he says.

"An enflamed bow-and-arrow? Who does that?" I ask, incredulously. I mean, seriously. How dramatic!

"A sick person," he says quietly, shaking his head. He tugs on my hand once more. "My car is right outside. We can't stay here. We'll call Barrett on the way."

"But—"

"—here," he says, throwing a pair of my sneakers at my feet, which he must have grabbed when he was in my room just now. "Put these on. We've got to go."

"I cannot go outside like this, Coop. Once again," I say, pointing to myself. "Wearing Superman pajamas!"

"Heather, we have to go!"

I groan, as he pulls me towards his room. He still has the bat in his other hand. He lets go of my hand, runs to his bureau and grabs his keys. He runs back toward me and pulls me outside.

I don't see his car anywhere. He just holds my hand tightly and runs. He seems to know where it is. His car, I mean. I can't keep up with him; I feel like I'm going to fall. But his grip is so tight. He's not letting go and he's not slowing down. I eventually see the car, parked a few streets away.

The minute we get into the car, he speeds off. My legs shake and my heart feels like it's fallen to my stomach. I feel a chill run up my spine.

I look at Cooper when I've calmed down a little and see something shocking. He's… not clenching his jaw. No, seriously. I mean, he looks _mad. _But there's not jaw-clenching! His expression is distant. I look at his hands and see that he's squeezing the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles are white.

I reach out and touch his right hand and he jumps, as if just noticing my presence in the car.

"Coop, what's wrong?" I ask, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

"I'm messing up. That's what's wrong," he says curtly.

"What do you mean?" I ask him. "We got away just fine," I explain. "You might even say we got away too quickly," I add, glancing down at my pajamas. "And no one appears to be following us."

I check the side mirror, just to be on the safe side. Cooper, too, glances quickly in the rearview mirror, and then fixes his eyes on the road again, releasing a long breath.

"Do you have any idea what kind of danger you're in?" he eventually asks.

"Well, between the letters, the phone call, the doctored photo, the brick, the fire and the dead guy… yeah, I have _some_ idea," I say.

He shakes his head slowly, that same haunted, tortured look covering his expression. "Everything else was a threat or a warning, Heather. This… _this _was an attempt on your life." His voice falters – just a bit – on the last word. And I'm touched.

"Cooper—"

"—and on a normal morning, it wouldn't have just been an attempt.It would've been enough." He squeezes the wheel again.

"M-maybe so," I say, stammering as the truth of his words sinks in. "But that just means he's getting impatient. It doesn't mean that _you're _messing up—"

"—you shouldn't have even been home!" he says, like he's bursting. "Tad – your ex-boyfriend – is after you, he knows where you live, a fact which I know… and I take you _home_ last night! I send you to your bed alone last night – your bed, which is by the very window he shot fire through this morning! Your bed which _caught_ fire…"

He closes his eyes for a quick second. "You could've been hurt. And _I _should've known better." His knuckles are all white again.

I sigh. "You can't do this, Cooper."

"Do what?" he asks, miserably.

"Take the blame for everything that happens to me. We've had this conversation a million times. _This… _is not your fault. And I'm not a breakable doll marked Fragile. I love it that you care. I love it more than I should, actually," I add, quickly. "Please stop torturing yourself, though. I'm not your responsibility. I'm an adult. I can handle myself."

He maintains his ever-serious expression and then slowly, a smile forms. It's not his normal carefree, million-kilowatt smile. But it's something.

"What?" I ask.

"I feel like you're two seconds away from proclaiming your independence as a woman," he says lightly.

I notice his grip on the steering wheel has loosened a little.

I smile, too, at that. "No, I'm not. I just don't want you to put my life in your hands the way you do. It's not fair to you."

"I can't turn it off," he admits quietly. "And anyway, I'm not going to be complacent anymore where you're concerned. You are going somewhere that has security and bodyguards."

"Really," I say, folding my arms across my chest, fixing him with a suspicious look. "And where would this safe fortress be?"

He smiles a little and steals a quick glance at me. "My parents' house."

I'm freaking out. No, seriously. I haven't been to the Cartwright household – more like Cartwright Manor – in, well… awhile. Last time I was there, I was dating Jordan. I was in showbiz! I was on bad terms with Papa Cartwright. Oh god…

… the last time I was there, I think (aka, I'm positive) that I stalked out, declaring that I would find a label that appreciated my creativity. Which I still haven't done, but whatever.

I peek at Cooper. He's turned jazz on again, and is driving, looking more peaceful now than he did when we'd gotten in the car. He has no idea. About my last visit to his parents', I mean. And why would he? He'd already had his own parting of sorts from his parents. Of course he wasn't around to watch mine.

At that thought, though, I turn to Cooper. "Is this okay with you?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, looking down at me quickly.

"Going there. To your parents' house, I mean. You're not exactly on the best terms with your family," I remind him.

"You'll be safe there. Safer than anywhere else I can think of. Paranoid as ever, they have multiple guards and the best security. That's all that matters to me," he says.

"Well, your comfort matters to me," I say. I wonder if he can tell that I just really have no desire to return to this house. It doesn't exactly give me warm or fuzzy feelings. Plus… Cooper's comfort _does _matter to me. A lot. I don't want him feeling badly in this place that's filled with bad memories for him because of me.

"I'll be fine," he says.

And the next thing I know, we're there, and I feel more nervous at the sight of the house than I did at the sight of fire in my bedroom just an hour earlier. Well, nearly.

Cooper pulls up to the security gate and rolls down his window. I look at the guard and smile because it's Carl. I always loved Carl!

"Hi Carl!" I say excitedly, leaning down so he can see my face.

Carl leans down to look at me and smiles widely when he sees that it's me. "Well, Well, if it isn't Miss Wells. I haven't seen you around here in a long time! It's nice to see you," he says.

"You too!"

Cooper looks at me and chuckles softly.

"I see you've moved onto the better brother," Carl whispers, winking at both Cooper and me.

I blush and look at Cooper, who just smiles at Carl. "Nice to see you again, buddy," he says.

"You too, Cooper."

"Is this a quick visit?" Carl asks. Then he looks at me. "Are you wearing _pajamas_?"

"Yes," I say in a faux-annoyed voice, narrowing my eyes at Cooper.

"We'll be here for a little while," Cooper explains. "Not sure how long, though. But listen, Carl, don't let any visitors in to see Heather. I'm not sure anyone will come, but if they do…"

"Got it. This one keeps you on a tight leash, huh?" Carl says to me.

I laugh. I've missed Carl.

He waves us off and we park in the eight-car garage that the family does not need. Between the two of them, his parents only have five cars!

Cooper gets out of the car and looks at me expectantly.

"Oh, I'm fine in the car," I say. "Can you just bring me out a cup of water? I'm a little parched. It's been a long morning."

He rolls his eyes and walks around to my side, opens the door and stands there, waiting.

Finally, in a huff, I get out of the car. "I could kill you for this, you know," I say.

"Oh, come on, Heather. If I can do this, you can."

"Your dad doesn't _hate _you!" I say.

He shoots me an amused expression at that.

"Whatever," I say. "He hates me more. You're family."

He laughs and leads me into the house through the back entrance.

I look at the familiar kitchen before me. I used to sit here all the time, sharing meals with a family that I once would've called my own. They were the closest thing I'd ever had to family at one point. But – like my mom – they'd all eventually gone away.

I look at Cooper.

All but one of them anyway.

The best one – by far – stayed with me.

I hear a noise and turn toward the front hall.

"Who's—" Mrs. Cartwright appears in the doorway, clad in workout gear, a bottle of water in her hand, sweatband on her head. She stares at Cooper and can't seem to hide her smile.

"What are you… what brings you… why… um… you didn't call… I would've—"

"This was sort of a last minute decision," he explains, shrugging.

"It's good to see you," she says, her eyes moist. "I haven't seen you since the wedding."

That would be my ex-boyfriend's wedding to the woman he'd cheated on me with. I'm not bitter about that. Just clarifying.

"I wish you'd stayed longer at the wedding," she goes on. She's sort of babbling the way I do when I'm nervous. I think we may actually have something in common. After all this time! "You kept saying you had to leave to go to the hospital, and you seemed nervous and—"

She stops, finally noticing me. "Heather!" she says, her mouth falling open in shock.

And then she does something really surprising. She… she opens her arms to me. The same woman who had told me that I really had to diet because no one wanted to hear bubblegum pop music from a chubby has-been. She'd said that to go forward and stay on top, I had to change, grow up, become sexy… and use my sexuality as a tool. And, of course, that just made me want a donut. You know. To defy her. To defy all of them.

I don't want to be rude, though, because you know, we (Cooper and I, I mean) are sort of intruding in her private space for our own personal reasons (aka _my _own personal reasons). Not that this was my idea. But still! I step forward and welcome her hug uncomfortably. She kind of holds on to me, even as I try to pull back.

She looks me up and down, and I feel the same kind of discomfort I did back then – when I was gaining weight, no longer the skinny girl she'd met. But this time, her gaze doesn't look disapproving. It's more… amused.

"Are you wearing pink Superman pajamas out in public?" she asks.

I just glare, once more, at Cooper, and growl quietly.

"Long story," he says, a small smile forming.

"Speaking of long stories," she says, her smile growing, "I got an ear full of one not too long ago." She looks from Cooper to me suspiciously. "Jordan called me. He was having a minor fit."

Cooper rolls his eyes and puts a hand through his hair.

"You really upset him," she says. But she doesn't seem mad at Cooper, the way she'd been when Cooper used to make fun of Jordan and get Jordan all upset. No, right now – she is smiling, like she's happy just to have the chance to talk to Cooper in person.

"He upsets easily," Cooper says.

"Well, he saw a picture in the entertainment section. Actually, I saw it, too and was curious…"

She trails off, puts a finger under her chin, and scrutinizes us. I don't like it, so I stare at the floor. Cooper – who knows what he's doing!

"It's a long story, Mom," he eventually says. "But the bottom line is: we need to lay low here for a couple of days, until something blows over."

"Until what blows over?" she asks. She sounds – if I'm not mistaken – like she's enjoying making us uncomfortable. See? She's a witch! A mischievous little lady.

"Someone wants me dead," I say.

Cooper looks down at me, his brows furrowed together angrily. He doesn't seem to like the way I'd said it so casually.

"What?" I say, shrugging. "That's the long story, in a small nutshell. Someone wants me dead. It happens."

"That's true," Mrs. Cartwright says. "I remember you once had a stalker that was something of a psycho! He tried to kidnap you one time, after a Mall of America event…" she trails off, looking at Cooper. "What's wrong?" she asks.

"We think it's the same guy," I say.

"What?" she says. And I can almost see her paling. And this confuses me. I mean, she used to give me such a hard time! She was downright mean to me at times. But, right now, I can't help but wonder if she actually cares about me. I always assumed she thought I wasn't good enough for her family. Did she, somewhere along the lines, actually start to like me? "The same crazy guy?" she continues. "He's after you again? Now? Why?"

"No idea," I say. "But anyway, that's the reason we're here. That's the reason I'm in my pajamas."

"Oh!" she says, resting a hand on her heaving chest. "Well, stay here as long as you need."

"Thank you," I say, genuinely.

"Yes. Thanks, Mom," Cooper reiterates.

"This still doesn't explain the photo in the paper," she says, looking suspiciously at us once again. "A man wants to kill you, so you two feel it's time for a heated kiss in the street? After _all_ your years of friendship?"

My face surely turns bright red and I look at Cooper. Just like with Jordan this morning, I have no idea how to handle questions about our ruse.

He looks at me and smiles reassuringly. "Something like that," he says, turning back towards his mother.

"Well, honey, come with me upstairs. I must have something you can wear that doesn't have a half-naked superhero on it," she says coyly, taking my hand.

I look at Cooper in shock as his mother pulls me away. Up the stairs.

When we get to her room, I sit down on her bed, unsure of what to do. I look at Mrs. Cartwright, taking in her slender frame. She looks like a size six. Eight max.

"Do you really think you'll have something for me?" I ask.

"I know I do," she says, smiling at me.

I'm still thrown by her behavior. Her smiles, her friendliness. Memories and past behavior immediately make my guard go up and I assume she must be luring me into some kind of false sense of security.

She looks at me for a long moment, like she's studying me, and then takes a seat beside me on the bed.

"I'm sorry," she spits out.

I look at her, confused. "What?" I ask. "Why?"

"You don't trust me. I can see that. And I can't blame you." She sighs. "I didn't always treat you right," she says. "You were a kid, and I did what everyone else did with you. I treated you like some kind of robot, some kind of money machine. For the longest time, I looked at your relationship with my son as nothing more than a publicity stunt."

I stare at her, shocked, wondering what's changed, why she's suddenly all maternal and… _nice. _

"I saw a picture the other day," she says, smiling, looking off into the distance. "You had to have been sixteen. And… and you looked so unsure. Overwhelmed by cameras. Jordan, now he was right beside you and he looked confident and…. ready. Ready for it all. My heart went out to you when I looked at that picture. You looked kind of alone. Scared. I know that back then, I used to criticize you for being like that. And I'd tell you, wouldn't I? I'd tell you that you needed to act more mature and confident. Sexy," she says, visibly shuddering at the memory. "And now I see this picture and wonder what was wrong with me. How could I have been like that with a _kid_? And a nice one, at that. You were a good girl, and I never saw that. I'm sorry," she finishes.

When I finally get over the shock of her confession, I close my gaping mouth and clear my throat. "It's cool," is all I manage.

She laughs at that. "I will admit that I never liked you and Jordan as a couple. I didn't think you two fit together, that you were a good match."

Great. I'd always assumed she thought I wasn't good enough for a son of hers. Now she's confirming it.

"He needs someone more like him. Tania really is just like him," she says, shaking her head, smiling. She looks at me squarely. "I love my son; I do, but I don't mean that in a good way."

I look at her, my mouth falling open. I think she just told me that I'm better than Tania. Or something kind of like that.

"You and Cooper are… " she trails off, looking for the right way to word whatever it is she's about to say. "You fit," she says, shrugging.

I blush and say nothing.

"Can you tell me what's going on with you two?" she asks.

I shake my head, because I honestly don't know what I can say to her. She's Cooper's mother! Surely she should have this conversation with him. Besides, he handles these things – questions about us – a whole lot better than I do. This was his plan, after all.

"Please, Heather. I'm just dying to know something about his life. God knows he won't tell me."

I look up at her. "It's just really complicated," I say lamely.

She reaches over to her bedside table and grabs the newspaper. She hands it to me. It's opened to the entertainment section. "Looks pretty simple to me," she says.

I stare at the picture, butterflies jumping in my stomach as I relive that kiss. It felt so wonderful, my lips on his, his arms around me, my hands on his face, in his hair…

I hear her catch her breath and look at her.

"You're in love with him," she says. And then she smiles. "I know it. Don't try to deny it. It's written all over your face."

I look down, ashamed my face is such a bad liar.

"Your secret is safe with me."

I walk downstairs twenty minutes later in a pair of sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt. Turns out Mrs. Cartwright did have something to fit me. She's actually a size ten, and buy all her sweats one size bigger so they fit her loosely (like I do!).

When I enter the living room, I see Cooper, saying bye to someone on the phone. When he notices me, he closes the phone and walks toward me.

"That was Barrett. He just left our place. He said the brick that broke the window had a note attached to it."

I feel something in my stomach tighten. These notes are never good. "What did it say?" I ask.

"That his love for you is burning," Cooper says quickly, and I can hear acid in his tone.

I shudder, thinking about the fire in my bedroom.

Cooper sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"What else?" I ask. Because looking at Cooper, I just know. That there's more, I mean.

"It said that… "

He looks at me, studies my face and takes a step toward me. 

"What?" I ask, impatiently.

He takes one of my hands in his.

"It says that when… when he gets his hands on you, you will be…"

He swallows. "I don't know why I can't say this," he says, looking up at the ceiling, "when I know this isn't going to happen."

"What?" I ask again. I feel like all the color has drained from my face. "What's not going to happen?"

"The note said when he gets his hands on you, you and him will be together… the way a man and woman are supposed to be."

I stare into his face, seeing the comforting sight of him clenching his jaw. He stares solemnly at me.

"Oh god," I say, closing my eyes.

He pulls me into a hug and puts one hand in my hair.

"This is never going to end," I whisper.

"Yes, it will."

"No, Coop. He keeps getting closer and closer, and we're always a step behind! We have nothing to go on! I know it's Tad, but no one knows where to find him. He's not at his place, or his old place. He doesn't exist. Who knows what name he's using or where he is. He could be across the street from your house, just waiting for me to step out for the mail or something!"

"He is not getting anywhere near you. You are safe here," he says.

Then, suddenly, he pulls away from me and grabs my face between his hands.

"And haven't you figured out yet," he whispers intensely, fiercely, "that I'd lay my life down to keep you safe?"

I shake my head as a tear slips out of my eye. "Don't you ever—"

But I don't finish what I'm saying, because he lowers his face – like he's done twice before, like he's going to kiss me – and he rests his forehead against mine.

He's breathing hard. This whole thing… it's really getting to him.

"Coop," I say, reaching up to touch his cheek. "It's okay."

He pulls away slightly and looks into my eyes. "It will be," he promises. "I have a new plan. And this time, he's coming out and he's going down. This ends tomorrow."


	14. Chapter 14

**Thank you for all the feedback! You guys are awesome. Hope you enjoy the next part!!!!**

**CHAPTER 14**

Do you know what I hate? Like _really _hate? When you ask someone something and they very obviously ignore your question. Like Cooper. Right now. I've asked him ten times about this new plan of his and he just keeps changing the subject!

"Once again," I try again, "what's the new plan?"

"Do you remember the first time we met?" he asks, doing it once again. Changing the subject, I mean. "It was right over there."

He points to the doorway connecting the living room to the kitchen. I smile – annoyed as I am – because I do remember. I remember the first time I ever saw those blue eyes, that long, dark hair and that infectious grin. I can't help it. That I smile, I mean.

The label had just signed me and I was invited to Mr. Cartwright's home for a meal! I was so excited. My excitement had only grown when I'd met his two sons. They were the two best-looking people I had ever seen in my life. There was Jordan – blonde-haired and blue-eyed. Perfect-looking… and, most importantly, closer to my age.

Cooper was the dream. A college student, a rebel (you could just tell by the way he was with his parents!), and just darker and more mysterious than the rest of the family. He'd seemed to have a chip on his shoulder… and I remember I kind of liked it. Even back then. He was very polite when we met. And oddly, I recall, every time I opened my mouth and said something, he'd seemed to get some kind of a kick out of it.

Like when I'd asked his mom why she'd put pickles and cheese on tiny pieces of toast… she'd looked ready to murder me. Cooper… he just looked like it was the most entertaining thing in the world.

"I remember you laughed at me a lot that night," I finally say.

"You were funny," he says, smiling like he, too, is back there. In that night.

"I wasn't trying to be."

"I know," he says. He looks at me and smiles in a way that makes me feel on the outside of some inside joke. "It's always been like that," he says. "You've always had the ability to completely make me laugh, and you never try. You're just you."

"I don't know why I amuse you so," I say, looking up into his smiling face, feeling calm and happiness wash over me at the familiar sight of his beautiful smile. "I don't do anything."

He just keeps smiling and shrugs.

"I could tell he liked you," he says after a moment, his smile beginning to fade. "That night."

"Huh? Oh, Jordan," I say, thrown by the change in topic. "Really? I had no idea."

"He stared at you the whole night. And… I didn't like it," he says, a little uncomfortably. "I barely knew you, but… I didn't want him with you. I didn't think you two would be a good fit at all."

His mom had pretty much said the same thing to me not a half hour ago! I laugh. "That's two of you in one day telling me that you never thought I was good enough for Jordan."

His eyebrows shoot up and his smile – what was left of it – disappears completely. "What? You think that's what I meant? That I met you that night, got an idea of what you were like, saw my brother staring at you, and thought you weren't good enough for him?"

I think about it. How Cooper had acted with Jordan and his parents. How nice he'd been to me and how amused he'd seemed by me that night. I smile. "Sorry," I say. "Defensive mechanism. I often just assume the worst."

"I've noticed," he says, crossing his arms. "Especially when it involves how I look at you."

I nod, blushing. Because he's right. I always assume I'm not good enough for Cooper. I just get used to listening to that voice in my head.

"I would think by now, you'd know better. You'd know that I've always liked you, and respected you."

"You're right. I mean, you've always been so great to me. I _should_ know!" I look up at him shyly. "It's funny," I say. "You always made me feel so normal, like I didn't have to try to be anything with you. You still make me feel that way."

"Me too," he says, which makes me look at him curiously. "I never made sense to my family," he explains. "They never made sense to me. I just remember, I would make a joke and piss them all off – especially my dad and Jordan – and I'd look at you. You were always at my house when you two started dating. I remember, I'd look at you, and I'd see you staring at your food, a huge smile on your face."

My eyes widen a bit. I hadn't realized he'd ever noticed that I did that. When Cooper used to make those jokes that upset his brother so much, I wanted so badly to laugh out loud. But I bit my tongue, and told myself to stop staring at him. So I'd stare at my food. I just hadn't realized he'd noticed. That he'd ever looked at me at all back then.

"You got me," he says. "You got me and no one else ever did."

I smile. "Well then, sorry for assuming you meant that Jordan was too good for me."

He scoffs at that thought. "I know he did love you, Heather," he says. "But… I just felt, all along, like he was going to hurt you someday."

"You assumed that someday he'd cheat on me?"

He clenches his jaw, looking distant for a mere second. "No. _That_… after ten years… was ridiculous. Unforgivable. I just assumed he'd hurt you somehow. I never thought he appreciated you, or what he had with you. He acted like you were lucky to be with him. But he was the one…" he trails off, leaving the rest unsaid.

"How did you find out about what happened?" I ask. "I just remember that the day it happened, you called me. I wasn't in the place then to think about how you found out – or to care for that matter. I just accepted your offer and ran."

He takes a deep breath. "Jordan called me," he says. "He told me that if you called me, to tell you to call him. He sounded on the edge. I knew something was up. I made him tell me everything. He'd tried to make it sound like a small fight that you overreacted to. When he told me – and he did tell me everything – it took every ounce of restraint for me to not go over there and beat him up."

"It couldn't have surprised you, though. I mean, you said you figured he'd hurt me someday."

He stares at me. "I never wanted it to happen, all the same," he says. "Especially not like that.I really can't stand seeing you hurt."

Those words take me away from the memories and past and I remember what we were talking about before our trip down memory lane. Cooper's trying again to be my savior, and he's leaving me out of the loop. Ten years ago, when that man was stalking me, Cooper tried so hard to save me, to protect me. Over one year ago, when Jordan cheated, he saved me in another way, helped me to figure out who I am on my own. And now… I'm being threatened, and he's putting the whole thing – the whole case – on himself. He's not telling me what's going on.

"Tell me about the new plan, Coop. Please."

"It's nothing," he says softly. "Really."

"Coop, come on. You'd freak if I had a plan that I wasn't letting you in on."

A see a look of guilt pass momentarily over his features. He knows that's true.

"You know, you not telling me makes me think that you're going to do something stupid. Put yourself in danger. I know you want to get this guy, but… but you promised me. You _promised._"

He sighs. "I won't do anything stupid, Heather. I'm not… it's not a big deal. This new plan, I mean. And it might not even work."

"What is it?" I ask, my patience and resolve almost completely gone. We've been so honest with each other for the past couple of days. How can he just put this wall up now? "I really can't handle being in the dark, and with you of all people. You're all I have right now. Don't push me away. Not to protect me, not to keep me safe, not for any reason. Please, Coop."

Cooper looks past me, as if searching for strength on the wall behind me. "Barrett has reason to believe that Tad's heading back to his old neighborhood," he finally says. "He thinks he'll go back to that house that we were investigating. He's going to do surveillance across the street and when Tad goes in, Barrett and the team go in. We get him."

He doesn't look at me once while he says this plan. And… and the plan seems like something simple, something that doesn't even involve Cooper or me. So why did he change the subject so much before? Why has he been beating around the bush? It doesn't make sense.

"Sounds simple," I say, my face deadpan, because I know that there's more.

"Yeah," Cooper agrees, still not making eye contact with me. He knows I know.

"Coop—"

He opens his mouth to say something, when the front door opens and Mr. Cartwright walks in. _Great. _Just what I need. The man who made my life a living hell barging into my current living hell. Can't I ever catch a break?

"Cooper," Mr. Cartwright says, squinting his eyes and rocking back on his heels, scrutinizing his son the way he always does. He looks over Cooper's shoulder and his eyes fall on me. "And Heather," he says, a flicker of surprise in his expression. He smiles condescendingly. "I guess you're still looking for that label that will appreciate your creativity, because I haven't seen a new album by you just yet."

"Hi, Mr. Cartwright," I say, cheerily. Last year, a comment like that would've stung. This year… I just don't care. Music is no longer the only thing I think I'm capable of. I'm good at a lot of things. Besides, how can I let someone like him get to me when I have people like Cooper in my life, caring about me?

Cooper smiles down at me, looking like he's thinking something.

"What brings you this way?" Mr. Cartwright asks, looking just at Cooper now. "It's not Christmas. It's not my birthday. Well, not that you come around on either occasions," he adds. And for a moment, I feel kind of bad. I mean, his dad's mean and all. But I'm starting to think that he is kind of sore about the distance between him and his oldest son.

"It's a personal favor, Dad," Cooper says. "We'll be out of your hair as soon as possible."

"Good. Fine," his dad says.

They stare at each other – two strangers… and a father and a son. I wish Cooper and his parents could work their issues with each other out. I feel like they'd all be happier. Suddenly, I feel incredibly lucky to have my dad in my life. He made a lot of mistakes and for a long time he wasn't in my life. But… he turned it all around. He's… he's in my life now. And now is what matters.

And I haven't barely talked to him at all this week. We had one conversation in the kitchen, the night I last saw Tad.

"Excuse me," I say to the two Cartwright men. Cooper looks at me curiously – concerned – as I turn to leave.

"Good. Now that she's gone, I need to know. What on earth are you doing hanging out with Heather? You know she broke Jordan's heart," I hear Mr. Cartwright say to Cooper.

"Dad, I'm not going to respond to either of those comments," Cooper says, in a bored, frustrated tone.

Their voices become a low murmur as I head up the stairs, away from them, to the guest room where Mrs. Cartwright told me to put my pocketbook and other things. I walk over and grab my cell phone, realizing that I haven't used it since the night I received the threatening phone call. I plug it into the charger and power it up, dialing my father's cell phone immediately.

"Heather?" he says eagerly when he answers.

"Dad! Hi," I say, my eyes filling with tears. Tears of joy, though. "How are you?"

"Oh, honey, I'm fine. But how are you? Are you okay? I've been worried."

"Don't worry about a thing. You know Cooper's on the case," I say lightly.

"That's the only reason I feel safe bowing out right now. I would've stayed with you, honey, to help you solve this. I hope you know that. But Cooper thought it would be best if Lucy and I were out of the line of fire, so to say. You never know what a psycho will do to get to someone. They'll go after family and loved ones."

"I know. He told me that, too. It's still hard though, not seeing you. I kind of got used to our talks and just seeing you every day. And it feels so strange not seeing Lucy and feeling her licks on my face or taking her for walks in the park."

"Don't worry. We're taking walks. And she looks at your picture all the time."

I smile. "Thanks," I say, sniffling.

"You scared?" he asks, after a long, thoughtful moment.

"Kind of," I admit softly. "I mean, I feel safe with Cooper. But… every day something else happens. There's a new note or threat. Or he's throwing something through my window, lighting my room on fire –"

"I heard about that," he says, his voice grim.

"And before any of that, a man died. Because of me." I take a deep, shuddering breath. "There are times where I'm just petrified of him, Dad. I just feel like we're up against some monster. That he'll do _anything._"

"You know Cooper won't let anything bad happen to you, honey."

"I know," I say. "And… Dad, do you have any idea at all what his new plan is?"

"New plan?" he asks. "No. Honey, honestly, I have no idea. We've only touched base a little this week."

"Oh," I say. "Well, are his cases going well?"

He laughs. "Nice try," he says.

"I don't want to know the details," I say, rolling my eyes. I mean, honestly, why does everyone think I'm out to learn Cooper's whole story. Okay, okay, so I am, in a way. Nothing would make me happier. But it's honestly not why I've asked my dad this. "I'm just checking to make sure that when this is over, he'll still have clients and a job," I explain.

He chuckles, still. "He will. Don't worry. Hey, sweetie, someone wants to say hi to you."

"Heather!" I hear a squeal belonging to a voice I know only too well.

"Mags?" I ask, astonished. "What are you doing with my father?"

"Protection, or something. At least that's what he told me when he grabbed me from school the other day," she says.

"When who grabbed you from school?" I ask.

"Cooper," she says like I'm the biggest idiot in the world. "Your knight in shining armor."

"When did he grab you from school?" I ask, astonished. I've been with Cooper for days on end, with pretty much no interruptions. When did he sneak over to the college?

"A couple mornings ago," she explains. And then it dawns on me. That morning when I was going to go to work and he was coming back from somewhere and stopped me as I locked the door, demanding to know where I was heading. That was the day he took me to meet Barrett at the police station. 

"He said it was for my protection, since… well, since I'm your best friend," she says. "Is that true?" she asks, eagerly.

"Of course," I answer automatically, wondering how there's a way she doesn't know that instinctively. "Sorry you have to hide out because of this whole thing."

"Don't worry. Me and your dad are playing lots of board games. And card games. And watching a lot of TV shows. Did you know about this new show? _Ugly Betty_? It has lots of bright colors. And fashion. And long nails. I like it."

I laugh, missing her so much right now. "I'm glad you're safe," I say.

"I'm glad you're safe, too," she says. "You just have to stay safe. That Tad is a piece of work. He never showed up at work the day Cooper came to get me. I think you dodged a bullet with that one."

"That's putting it mildly," I say. "Anyway, I should let you guys go. I just wanted to say… to say hi."

"Heather?" she asks.

"Yeah?"

"He loves you. It's so obvious. These days, it's beyond obvious."

"Who?" I ask. "My dad?"

She laughs. "He loves you, too. And you know who I mean," she says. "Good-bye."

I manage to stammer a "bye" as the line breaks.

I sigh, trying to quench the hope that's building from her words. _Cooper. _That's who she meant, of course. But she can't mean that he loves me, you know… _that _way. She can't know that. No one can. Just Cooper. I know he loves me as a friend though.

And that simple fact is like a security blanket that keeps me warm. I can't even imagine the coldness if it's taken away because he's trying to be all macho and save my life. In one way or another, I will figure out what his new plan really is.

I look down at my phone, and see that I have two new voice messages. I call in to my voicemail system, bracing myself for anything.

_Heather. Baby._

My breath catches. It's Tad.

_Baby. Where are you? I miss you. If I'd known you were going to take this long going to get milk, I never would've let you go. Never! Baby. Heather? Baby, I miss you. Baby, I love you. Baby, you're mine. You're mine baby. So come home…_

I am in shock. He sounds so… controlling, possessive. Obsessed. Had I never noticed that about him before? I mean, he kind of sounds normal. For him, I mean. He said "baby" far more than he ever used to, but… other than that, it wasn't that un-Tad-like. God, how stupid am I, that I let it go on for so long and come to this?

I push the pound button, moving onto the next message.

_I know where you're staying and what you're doing. I know exactly where you are right now, Heather._

Oh god, it's that voice. The same distorted voice from that phone call that night.

_I've already told you that I'm going to get you. Soon. And I never go back on my word._

I gulp and get a timestamp on the call. It's from this morning! After the incident in my bedroom. I run to a window and look out, wondering where he is. And when… when it will all end.

I run into Cooper and his mother when I leave the room and emerge downstairs again. Cooper can tell immediately that something's up. He quietly asks me if everything's okay, and all I can do is nod. I mean, his mom is right there! I don't want to talk about the phone conversation and risk a total breakdown right there in front of her. But Cooper acts all concerned.

I figure if we can just get alone, I can ask him about the plan. But the day flies by, and Cooper and I are never alone. I never get the chance to corner him and ask him about the plan.

At one point, his mom pulled me aside to do my nails and ask about what I've been up to since I broke up with Jordan. She asked me about my dad, now that he's back in my life, and about my job and my cases from this last year. She seemed oddly interested in my life and, of course, found subtle ways to ask about Cooper. About the details of his life, and what our relationship really is like.

I just kept telling her to talk to him.

Cooper spent the day on the phone in other rooms, and on his computer at one point. I tried to get close, of course, to hear something that might let me in on it. His secret, I mean. But I heard nothing.

When dinner rolled around, it was pretty awkward. Mr. Cartwright asked a few snide questions about my musical career standstill, which only made Cooper – and his mother, oddly enough – angry and embarrassed me.

I look around the guest room now, glad the day is over. I guess I'll have to wait until tomorrow to ask Cooper about the plan.

I crawl into bed, wondering how he can keep anything from me at this point. We've come so far together. And he's holding back. I know he's holding back. What is he planning? Is it dangerous for him? I shudder at the idea of him in danger.

I think about his job – about all the potentially dangerous situations he's always in. And he never tells me about it. About his job, I mean. So… that's it. I'm just another case. And this is something I'm not allowed to know. Even though this one involves me.

This one… this one terrifies me. I turn off the bedside lamp and look around, as my eyes adjust to the darkness. I can hear the voice. The one from the message on my cell.

I can feel the fear begin to take hold, to completely own me.

The door to my room cracks open and I gasp.

"Hey… hey," Cooper says, closing the door. In a stride, he's here, beside me. He sits on the bed and pulls me toward him. "Heather, what's wrong? You're shaking."

"It's nothing," I say. But my voice betrays me. I sigh. "He left a message on my cell phone this morning. He knows where I am," I say.

I can't see him, but I feel the breath leave him, nearly feel his heart rate speed up. And I feel his arms tighten around me protectively. "You're safe here. He can't get past any guards and all of this security. And anyway, he was probably bluffing."

He's saying the words, but even he sounds doubtful. Nervous.

"You're right. I mean, I'm fine, Coop," I lie, my voice quivering. "You can go to bed; you don't have to worry about me."

"Okay," he says quietly.

But to my surprise, he doesn't leave the room. He… he moves to the other side of the bed and begins unmaking it!

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Going to bed," he says. "Is this okay with you?" he asks.

"Yes," I say, relieved that he's not leaving.

When he's under the covers, he moves toward the middle of the bed. "C'mere," he whispers soothingly.

Without hesitation, I move into his open arms, feeling him wrap his arms around me again. He's holding me like he was a moment ago, only… we're lying down now. We've never done this before and yet if feels so right. I realize, as he rubs my arm and up and down with his hand, that I'm still shaking a bit.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this," he says.

"It's okay," I say. I sniffle and look up, looking for an outline of his form or something, but I only see darkness. "Coop, why are you keeping me in the dark about this plan? I can't help but feel like one of your cases that I don't get the privilege of knowing about. But… this isn't just one of your cases. This involves me."

"I know," he says. "Heather, I definitely don't consider you one of my cases. In my career, there have only been two cases that mattered to me. Really mattered. And you were the star of both of them. So you don't have to tell me that you're not one of my cases."

My eyes still search for his face, even just a silhouette of it. When I see nothing still, I reach my hand up and tentatively touch his stubbly cheek. "I can't lose you. Ever," I say.

A tear escapes my eye. He can't see me; I know he can't. But still… he puts a finger on my cheek, gently, and wipes away the tear. He knows. He knows from my voice, and my body, that I'm crying.

It's funny how when one of your senses is taken away – my sight in this case – all your other senses kick into high gear. Like right now. I can hear his breathing accelerate just a little bit. I can feel his heartbeat against mine. Both speed up. I can feel his breath against my cheek, and his hand tangled in my hair.

So when his lips touch mine, I'm not even surprised, even though I couldn't see them coming. We're… we're kissing. Cooper and me. And… we're not out in public, we're not drawing anyone out of hiding.

He's just kissing me. Sweetly. Gently. And I'm kissing him back just the same, feeling so much love for him. My hand moves from his stubbly cheek into his hair, and finally, I get to do it. Put my hands in all that thick hair of his. Like I've always wanted.

Butterflies dance in my stomach when I feel his tongue touch mine. We haven't done anything like this before. And I'm not about to stop it. But the feeling does make me groan in delight.

Cooper and I are sleeping for the second time together in a dark bedroom. Only this time, he's not behaving like a perfect gentleman. He made no such promises tonight.

No, tonight… he's kissing me in the most wonderful way.

Kind of like it's the last chance he'll get to ever kiss me again.


	15. Chapter 15

**Thanks for ALL the awesome feedback!!!!! Hope you enjoy the next part!**

**CHAPTER 15**

I wake up the next morning feeling… confused. To say the least. I have no idea where I am, for starters. I look around, when it finally hits me. Where I am, I mean. I'm in the Cartwright mansion, in a cold guest bedroom. And, I notice, I'm alone. The previous night cascades back to me in flashes of wonderful darkness and I remember… this room was far from cold last night.

Cooper's breath, his mouth, the heat from his body, as it pressed against mine… that was all warm. And me? Kissing Cooper, I felt downright _hot. _As a matter of fact, just the memory of last night alone is sending a wave of heat straight to my cheeks, and my heartbeat is fluttering to a unique new beat.

I remember in detail the feel of his tongue as it explored mine, of his body, as it molded with mine, of his breath against my cheek, and his hand on my cheek, and then on my stomach…

… and that's where it ends. It didn't go much further than that, unfortunately. When Cooper's hand touched my stomach, I all but ruined things! It – his hand, I mean – had felt like it was burning my skin where it touched me, and I'd inhaled deeply. It was totally a gasp of excitement and anticipation, but I guess it had jostled him back to reality or something, because that was when he pulled back, apologizing.

I asked him if he was apologizing for being a damned good kisser, and he laughed, seeming relieved or something. He pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me protectively again, apologizing one more for crossing "the line."

I would love someone to just point out this line to me, so I can take the world's largest eraser to it and get rid of it altogether! Surely if there were no lines, he and I could be together without complications and without him overanalyzing it. Right?

"It's okay," I said to him in the darkness, hoping he'd kiss me again. He didn't. He just sighed kind of sadly. And I remember wishing I could see his face. "What's going on with us, Coop?" I asked him, quietly.

"I don't know," he admitted, and I felt him shrug. "This whole thing has just spiraled out of control, and I just feel like I no longer have control over any of my emotions." He ran a hand up and down my arm, and I felt content at his words. I felt like he was admitting he wanted to kiss me all the time, but usually controlled the instinct for some reason. I fell asleep in his arms, telling myself those lies.

Now… reliving it, I realize his words were really saying if he basically had any control at all, we'd never kiss. Ever. Kissing me is apparently brought on – for him – by sheer lunacy or as a ruse. Not love, like I'd hoped. Never love.

How frustrating!

As I brush my teeth, shower, and begin my day, I feel so conflicted. The fact that he kissed me at all, without pretense, makes me insanely happy and gives me – hope against hope – well, _hope. _But… his words echo through me, and I feel as if his wall went right back up last night. That the kiss was not a preview of things to come, but a one-time thing borne out of emotional turmoil, danger, and a desperate situation that intensifies daily. Hourly even.

I head downstairs, all of this churning through my mind, and see Mrs. Cartwright walk through the front door, some Target bags in her hands.

"Oh, you're up!" she says, when she sees me. "I bought you some clothes, so you don't have to wear those sweats of mine or the superman pajamas anymore." She walks closer to me and looks around before continuing. "I also purchased you some undies… you know," she whispers, winking, as I turn ten shades of red.

"Um, thanks," I stammer, not making eye contact. I take the proffered bags from her. "That was really nice of you. Just let me know what I owe you for it all. "

"You don't owe me anything!" she says, smiling, seeming surprised I'd even suggest paying her back.

I'm confused, but I shrug and smile appreciatively. "Target, huh?" I say, looking down at the bags.

"Oh, you don't like Target?" she asks, biting her lower lip.

"I do! I just didn't think it was in your vocabulary," I say, laughing. "I mean Target and Cartwright don't exactly go hand-in-hand." I look up at her quickly. "Not that I'd think you'd shop for me at some designer store, of course," I amend.

She waves at me dismissively. "All my around-the-house clothes are from Target. And some of my going out clothes," she adds. "And you'll be around the house it would seem, so it seemed fine."

"Thanks," I say. I look around. "Is Cooper here?"

"I haven't seen him today," she says. "I woke up around seven and he was already gone. He left a note saying…"

She trails off, looking like she said too much.

"Saying what?" I persist.

She shrugs. "Just to make sure you stayed in all day," she says. "I doubt that's a big secret, that he doesn't want you to leave. I swear, him and all his secrecy, I feel like I can't say anything to you!"

"Stay in all day?" I ask. "Won't he be here to make sure of that himself? For the past few days, he's barely left me alone for a second. Every time I turn around, there he is! Why did he leave a note?" Something tightens in my stomach as my mind races. "Where did he go?" Oh god, I'm panicking. There may be nothing wrong and I'm just… I'm panicking!

"I really don't know," she says, looking at me guiltily.

I thank her again for the clothes and quickly make my way back upstairs to change into one of the new outfits she got me.

When I pull the clothes out of the bags, I see she's deeply miscalculated my style in the years she's known me. She got me two sweaters with floral designs on them, and plaid pants! I look through the bags anxiously for anything else and sigh in relief when I find a hoodie and sporty sweatpants. I throw on a pair of the clean underwear and the chosen outfit and pick up my cell phone.

I dial the most familiar number and wait… wait for his greeting, for his voice. When it comes, it's automated and not the same as that familiar tone he has when he talks to me. This is his business voice. His toneless voice. Followed by _beep._

"Cooper, it's me. Where… where are you? I woke up and your mom says you've been gone for hours, and you left a note saying I shouldn't leave all day? Where are you, Coop? Come _on_. You are supposed to tell me things, not keep me in the dark. Remember?" I trail off and sigh, listening to the silence on the other end. "Please call me."

I hang up, wondering who else I can call. I look through my phone for phone numbers and ideas, when I see Barrett's number. Ha! He'll know… well, something more than I do. You can bet that.

_He _answers on the first ring unlike _some _people.

"Barrett," he says, in that cool, detached, detective voice.

"You! Where is he?"

"What? Where is… ah, Miss Wells," he says, recognition dawning.

"Where's Cooper? What is going on? I know you guys are up to something," I say.

"Heather, this really isn't the time to—"

"Make it the time, Barrett," I say. "Why is everyone acting like this case does not involve _me_?"

"Believe me, Cooper knows this case involves you. And I promise you… you're his main concern."

My heart flutters at Barrett's words, but I still feel very anxious. I hate being kept in the dark. "Where is he, Barrett?" I ask, my voice quivering and my impatience growing.

"Honey, I can't—"

"He said something about a new plan. You were going to stake out that old house. You know, the one that belonged to Seymour Haggleman that Cooper and I scoped out the other night. When we found those pictures. Why does he need to be there for that? And why can't I come?"

"Is that what he told you we were doing?" he asks, and… I could be wrong, but he sounds like he's about to laugh.

And that just infuriates me.

"He lied," I say, after a moment. And it all becomes clear. How sketchy he was all day about his "new plan", and how he wouldn't look me in the eye when he eventually told me the lame plan. He'd been lying to my face.

"He lied to me," I say again, bowled over by the hurt that goes with that fact.

Barrett only grunts, but I take it as confirmation. Not that I need any. Confirmation, I mean.

"Honey, we've practically got this guy, and then this will all be over."

I feel tears prick at my eyes. "Well, what are you doing to get him? How do you know it'll all be over?"

"I'm… I can't tell you that," he says, sighing.

"This is ridiculous. I can't believe you guys! You act all macho, like I'm some helpless girl on the sidelines screaming 'please, please, somebody save me!' You have to stop it! What is he up to, Barrett? Is he in danger?" I ask, realizing my knees are actually beginning to shake. Just the thought of him in danger…

I sit on the bed. The very same one we were kissing on last night, clutching the phone to my ear.

"He's got it under control and you'll be able to talk to him soon," he says. "So let us just do – wait, what was that?" he asks someone. "What the—"

"What was _what?_" I sit forward on the bed. "Barrett, what's going on?"

"I have to go."

"No—"

But it's too late. He hangs up on me. I stare at my phone, feeling like I'm hyperventilating. I look around and try to compose myself, but… I feel like something's wrong. Oh, everything's wrong! Cooper lied to me. _He lied to me! _And then he kissed me. Because he knew. He totally knew. He knew he was putting himself in danger today and that in a way he had nothing to lose. And he prepared me for the situation of everything working out and him returning to me safe, with Tad behind bars, by telling me he'd only really kissed me because of the high emotions of our situation, and… and… _what am I doing?_

Cooper's possibly in danger! Who _cares _about anything else? Who cares that he lied? Oh god…

I realize that my hands are shaking and I take a deep, steadying breath.

I have no idea what to do! I mean, I want to help him. Of course. But I have no idea where he is. Besides, if I tried, I'd undoubtedly make it all worse. And this is, of course, why he lied to me about the "new" plan to begin with.

The whole mess leaves me feeling completely frustrated… and totally helpless. And I hate both feelings.

I clutch my phone and run out of the room, down the stairs, intending to do… I don't know what. But something. I can't do anything in the guest room of Cooper's parents' house, that's for sure. I have to go downstairs. Outside. Away. Somewhere where I can help—

"Heather. Whoa."

I look up when I get to the bottom of the stairs and find myself face-to-face with Jordan.

"Please, Jordan. Not now. I need to get out of here," I say.

He furrows his brows and looks at me intently.

"You're crying," he says.

And then I realize it. The difference between him and his brother, I mean. Cooper never points out that I'm crying. He asks if I'm okay or begs me to tell him what's wrong… he wipes the tears away or holds me. He _makes_ me okay.

Jordan… he's never understood me. Not when we dated. Not now. How could I waste so much time with someone who was so…

… so…

… so not Cooper.

I sigh and shake my head at Jordan. "I need to go and help him."

"Who?" he asks, though we both know that he knows who I mean.

"Cooper. I just feel like something is wrong. And it's all my fault."

He holds a piece of paper up at me. "He specifically said he didn't want you to leave, Heather. And… I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I agree with my brother. I know what's going on. I made my mom tell me," he admits sheepishly. "And it's dangerous."

"I don't care," I say. "I really don't. This guy that's out there is dangerous, Jordan. He killed a man before because of me. And if he… oh god…"

"Cooper will be fine," Jordan says soothingly. "He's a fighter. He's a professional detective. This is what he does. He'll be fine," he says again, slower. As if talking more slowly and quietly will calm me somehow.

"Can you honestly just do that? Know that your brother is out there, possibly in danger, and just go and… I don't know… sing your heart out? Watch TV? Make out with your new wife? He's your _brother_!"

He looks at me with a careful and measured expression before speaking. "Didn't anyone ever tell you? Heather, Cooper's Superman. He really is." He laughs at his own joke. "At least I've always thought so. When I say he can take care of himself, I mean it. I've never known anyone who could take care of himself quite so . I've depended on my family for as long as I can remember. Coop… he got out," he admits quietly. "He stood on his own two feet and he survived. He has always survived."

I look at him, knowing how true it is. All of it.

"I'm sure he's fine," he finishes.

It doesn't help, but I nod. And I hope.

"Anyway, I can't let you go."

I look at him in shock. "If you think that I am going to do what _you _say, you're really—"

"I'm doing what he wants, Heather. I know he'd want to make sure that you're safe," he says.

He follows me into his living room and sits down beside me on the couch.

"Can I see that?" I ask, taking the note out of his hands before he can agree.

I trace my finger absently over the familiar handwriting before reading it.

_Mom,_

_I'm heading out for awhile, and I need you to do me a favor. Make sure Heather doesn't leave the house at any time, for any reason. And be careful, because she'll try to. Just please, do this for me. Thanks,_

_Cooper _

Darn that man. He knows me too well. Is it possible to miss him when I've only really been away from him since I woke up a couple hours ago? I can't help it though. We've spent every second of every day together for the past three days!

Oh god. I've become codependent.

"You're in love with him," he says. Jordan, I mean.

He says it calmly. Matter-of-factly. And, if I'm not mistaken, kind of sadly.

I look up at him as he stares down at me, shaking his head. "I know you are. It's written all over your face," he says.

I just shake my head, unable to deny it. Not wanting to deny it anymore. It's just… exhausting. Pretending Cooper's just my roommate. My pal. My ex-boyfriend's big brother.

"How long?"

"I don't know," I admit quietly. "It doesn't matter anyway. Jordan, he doesn't feel that way about me. You know it. You know his type as well as I do. You constantly remind me," I say wryly.

He shrugs. "I don't know. His type's always been so… not you. But those girls he dates; they never last. He doesn't date anyone very long. And… when I think about it – like _really _think about it – it seems like he might feel much more for you than he ever let on. When he stopped coming around here and hanging out with us, he would still call me occasionally, and pretty much just ask how you were. He used to get protective of you when it came to your fame, and how the label was treating you. When this stalker was after you that first time, he became obsessed. I remember that. When you and I got engaged, he got this really strange look on his face. I remember it. I couldn't figure out if he was happy for us, or mad, or sad… it was a look I'd never seen before. And shortly after, he was dating that girl Marian that he only went out with a couple times."

My mouth falls open as I think about what Cooper had said about Marian just two days ago. He said he'd only dated her because he was going through sort of a hard time. Could he have been talking about my engagement?

Could Cooper actually… feel the same way about me?

"I'm not sure what's going on with you two," Jordan says, interrupting all my hopes. "But… whatever it is, it's something."

I furrow my brow, confused about something. "Jordan, yesterday morning you were freaking out at the idea that anything could be going on with us. What could've changed?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, it works. You and him. Cooper's always been a complete mystery to everyone. My parents and me. Family friends. But not with you. And you seem to make more sense to him than you ever did to me. I loved you, Heather. Of course I did. But… the way he looks at you… I'm not sure I ever looked at you that way. Or that I ever would've."

He looks at me intently. "I just didn't want to admit it before. But I can now. I honestly think he loves you." He laughs. "I mean, can't you tell?"

I release a long, shuddering breath. "I know he loves me as a friend. I guess I get mixed signals on the rest," I admit, wondering how it's possible that Jordan and I are talking about my love life like this. Like it's no big deal. And my love life with his brother, no less!

It's beyond bizarre.

A knock at the door breaks the moment, though. I follow Jordan as he answers and I see Barrett. He doesn't look happy at all.

Knots tighten in my stomach.

"Barrett. What is it?"

I see a woman who looks oddly like _me_ standing next to him, as well as two other male cops. I see no sign of Cooper.

"Where is he?"

He looks mad. Something is wrong.

"Our new plan backfired, honey."

"That's putting it mildly," the girls says, angrily.

He ignores her, closes his eyes for a beat, and then looks at me.

"Honey. They've got Cooper."


	16. Chapter 16

**Hi everyone!! I am so sorry for the long delay with this new update. Thanks everyone for the awesome feedback! It really makes my day when I read it, and encourages me to post more! Hope you enjoy the next part … MAC--**

**CHAPTER 16**

Have you ever felt like you were hearing someone's voice as if from underwater? They sound slow and drawn out, the voice deeper than normal. And… they don't make sense. Any sense. At all. Barrett. Right now. He's not making any sense. I'm not hearing him right. And I feel just like this. Like I'm drowning, I mean. Like his voice is traveling to me from underwater.

And that must be it. I must be drowning or something – only without water, obviously. Because what I think he said he cannot have possibly said.

I feel a hand steady me and look up, seeing a grim-faced Jordan looking down at me.

"You okay?" he asks.

I shake my head, lost for words. I look again at Barrett. He looks upset, which only confirms that something is indeed wrong. Of course I'm not okay!

"Where's my brother?" I hear Jordan ask.

Cooper. Yes. Where is he? Where is Cooper. _Where is Cooper? _Oh my god…

What if something happened to him? What if he's hurt! Or…

"_Honey, they've got Cooper,"_ Barrett had said.

I shake my head. They can't have Cooper. They can have anyone else, but not – wait a minute, _they?_

"Who are 'they'?" I ask, finally finding my voice. "Last I checked, our man was Tad. And last I checked Tad was only _one _man."

"Let's go inside," Barrett says quietly.

I open my mouth to argue, but instead move aside. If he wants to talk inside, fine. I just want to know what is going on and where Cooper is… _now._

Jordan leads the group into the living room, and Barrett takes a seat.

"Okay, Barrett. Spill it. All of it. What is going on?"

"Well, Tad is definitely the one behind this. He's the ring leader."

"The… _ring leader?" _I ask. "Of what?"

Barrett sighs, shaking his head in anger. "Let's just call it 'The Heather Wells Anti-Fan Club so to say."

"You can't be serious. There's a fan club devoted to hating me?"

Oh god. Okay, I never pretended my music was like Ella Fitzgerald's. There were songs I sang that I'll admit honesty kind of sucked. But… my god, I wasn't _that _bad!

"There are only four people in it, but… yeah, they pretty much hate you."

I feel like I'm about to stumble backwards until I feel a solid hand on my shoulder, holding me up. I look over my shoulder and see Jordan. He leads me to a seat and I fall into it.

"Once again, where's my brother? If they want Heather, why exactly did they take him? And if Cooper knew about these guys, how could he let himself get caught? He's not a stupid guy. He's good at what he does…"

Jordan seems honestly upset. Not as upset as me – I mean, he can't be. I can barely see straight, let alone formulate long and coherent sentences. But… he does seem pretty upset.

"Yesterday," Barrett starts, "I was doing some research and came across this encrypted web page."

"Encrypted?" I ask.

"Private, really," Barrett explains.

"Okay," I say. "And this private, encrypted site…" I say, urging him to continue.

"Everything was written in a code that was popular years ago with stalkers of celebrities. There are specific words that signify violent actions, and certain ways of spelling the celebrity's name that would make it so we can't search for the site by usual means. It occurred to me yesterday to try and find something on the internet in this code language, since he was after you years ago, when this code was most popular. And we found this private site, which our hackers managed to – after much work – get into. Well, we could see the last login was yesterday morning, and the webmaster referenced the incident from ten years ago. He said you were right now at this address here, and there was a plan in place to take out security and Cooper's family. There was nothing about harming anyone," he says, noticing my face at that comment. Just the thought that Cooper's family could've been hurt, by merely trying to protect me gives me chills to the core.

"They just wanted to render Cooper and his family helpless so they could get you."

"Though at the time, we didn't know it was a 'they' we were dealing with," the woman who looks kind of like me says.

I look at her, just remembering her presence at all, wondering at her role in all of this.

"I'm Angie," she says, as if reading the questions in my eyes. "I'm an officer, and I pretended to be you," she says. "Sorry we couldn't tell you about the plan," she finishes quietly. "_That _was all Cooper," she explains.

I nod, closing my eyes slowly. Of course it was all Cooper. Cooper keeps me in the dark every day of his life and says it's for my own protection. It's his story. It's always his story. And now…

… now what? I have no idea where he is.

"Tell me what happened to him. Please," I demand. Plead.

"When Cooper learned about Tad's plan, he freaked out," Angie explains. "He read through the paperwork, seeing that Tad was planning to begin his pre-attack stakeout at a deli up the street today. This morning. He figured that Tad would probably take any opportunity to grab you without having to go through the trouble of getting around the Cartwright's security, and if you were at that deli, he would probably try to get you there instead. Only… well, as you can imagine, the idea of bringing _you _to the deli was completely out of the question to Cooper. He wouldn't even consider it. And… he's always thought I look just a little bit like you. So… he enlisted me into this mission."

"Then what?" I ask, taking a steadying breath.

"Honey," Barrett says, "you have to know that we had no idea there were three more of them. There was only one IP address on this site, and one username. From our footage of the Mall of America thing years back, and from the letters you've received recently, what happened at Fitness World, the phone call you received… it all points to _one_ man, one stalker. We weren't prepared for three extra people to be involved. Today, about three minutes after they got Cooper, our main hacker calls us and tells us he thinks this guy isn't working alone. Horrible timing. If only that call came ten minutes earlier! Anyway, that was when the hacker found the reference on the site to the Heather Wells Must Die Club."

"Are you serious?" I ask. Calling it my Anti-Fan Club before was definitely much nicer and less dramatic. "The name of their club is actually The Heather Wells Must Die Club?" I ask, my voice sounding like a squeak. I mean, honestly… _what _did I ever do to piss these four people off so much? I just sang in a skirt! Lots of girls sing in skirts! I sang well, I sang hard, I didn't bother anyone, I just sang in a freakin' skirt! "Why are they doing this?" I ask, bursting.

"I don't know," Barrett says honestly. "Anyway, the idea of a club of people hating you was something we just hadn't considered. So we weren't ready when they attacked."

I swallow hard. I don't like that word. _Attack._

Cooper was… attacked?

_Oh god. _

"What does that mean?"

"Cooper and I were standing at the deli," Angie starts, "chatting, trying to be casual, pretending I was you. Tad was there. Cooper saw him notice us out of the corner of his eye. He never looked at him. But he said the code words we'd worked out so I knew. Our goal was to get him outside. Make him follow us to our car. Normally, that would've been fine! He would've tried to grab me – well, _you_ – as you got into the car. It's how stupid people and amateur stalkers work. And that is what we honestly thought we were dealing with. My partner, Jerry," she says, indicating the man sitting relatively close to her, "was there with another officer, ready for it. Cooper was ready for it. Barrett was keeping watch from the top of a nearby building."

She sighs and looks at me. "We didn't expect anything to go wrong."

"So… what happened?" I ask, growing impatient. I mean, come on – we are talking about Cooper's safety here, and no one seems to want to talk about what happened. Of course, I'm starting to think the absolute worst! I'm thinking guns, knives, brute force. My stomach is in knots.

"They weren't stupid. They knew I wasn't you immediately, even though I kept my head low and didn't make eye contact with that Tad guy. They must have switched their plan right then and there, I guess. We walked outside, and he followed us. We thought we had him and started toward the parking lot, where Jerry and the others were. And that's when they all came after Cooper. They didn't care about me, and I tried to help him, Heather, I did. It all happened really fast. They pushed me aside, flung me against a wall, really, got my gun, and held him up and beat on him pretty badly. Just as our guys were coming to help, they threw him in the back of this white van that was right there outside the deli, and drove away."

I let out a low breath, closing my eyes, picturing it all. Cooper being attacked blindly – held up by one man while others pounded on him… on his beautiful face. His beautiful body. I could picture it. That beautiful body folding forward to protect himself, but Cooper… he was helpless.

"What do we do?" I ask in a whisper, my voice shaking. "How can we help him? Where did they take him?"

"We don't know, honey," Barrett says, taking one of my hands and squeezing it with his own calloused hands.

"Before they drove off, they told me that I knew the only way to get him back," Angie says, shaking her head.

"Well, great," I say. "What's that?"

She stares at me intently and then looks at her partner, Jerry, and then at Barrett.

"You," Barrett says. "We all know that. You're who he wants. He knows how much you care about Cooper. He's got bait now."

"Well, fine, turn me over to him. Do whatever you have to do, just get Cooper back safely," I say, standing up. "So, how do we get in touch with him?"

"Heather, don't be ridiculous," Jordan says. "We are not handing you over to a psycho stalker."

"He's right," Barrett says. "We can't turn you over to him. We know what he wants to do to you, honey. _You_ know. And you know that Cooper would kill us if we did it to save him."

"But it's okay that he got himself hurt and captured to save me, right?" I ask through bleary eyes.

Barrett stares at the floor, like he's looking for his patience, or wishing he was somewhere else.

"Do you have another plan?" I ask.

"Not just yet," he admits.

"Then why are you even here?"

"To make sure they didn't make good on their original plan to incapacitate security and get you. You're in danger right now. And… we had to tell you what happened. We figured you'd notice if Cooper never came back."

At that thought, tears spring to my eyes and suddenly I'm angry. I'm seething mad. "Well thank you so much for stopping by! You came all the way over here to tell me that Cooper is in danger. That he's hurt. That he's been captured. And that there's _nothing _being done about it? That you're just here to protect _me? _I appreciate the visit, but I need a plan! And I thought that _you _were the police! You're supposed to have plans when emergencies arise."

I stand up and move so that I'm in front of Barrett. He looks up at me and I stare into his eyes, my gaze pleading.

"Use me."

"What?" he asks.

"We can't just let them hurt Cooper. We can do something. He wants me. So _use_ me. We know we're dealing with a group of them now. We can get him back if we just work together. I won't get hurt. And… I cannot just sit here and do nothing. This case is about _me. _And I'm sick of sitting by while everyone _else_ tries to solve it. With or without you, I'm going to figure out a way to help Cooper," I say. "It would just be a hell of a lot easier with you."

Barrett sighs and shakes his head. "How did I know you were going to be like this?"

"You can't say no to me. You just can't." I speak quietly and surely. But mostly, I speak with love – and I think that's what gets through to him.

"He's going to kill me if anything happens—"

"Nothing will happen to me."

"Heather," Jordan says, and I turn to look at him. "You can't do this. You know it'll kill him if something happens to you – especially if you're trying to help him."

I shrug. "Then your brother is a big hypocrite. And I fully intend to tell him that, as soon as this is all over."

Jordan stands and walks toward me. "How can I help?"

An hour later, I'm in my room, practically naked, while Angie wires me.

"You know, I've known Cooper for a few years now," she says, nonchalantly, as she works.

I eye her suspiciously, wondering what she's getting at. If she's just another girl interested in Cooper, about to ask me if I think he'll go for her or something, I'll scream.

"I've seen him date different girls. Jerry and I have doubled with him before," she explains.

"Oh! You're dating your partner?" I ask.

She nods. "Makes work difficult, let me tell you. We spend most of our time worrying about each other."

I smile, moved by the look on her face as she merely speaks about Jerry. You can just see the love.

"Anyway, Cooper's always seemed so detached from girls. He's always seemed either uninterested in who he's dating, or preoccupied with work or friends. I have never seen him on a date where he didn't look at her like…" she trails off, thoughtfully, shaking her head.

"… like what?" I finally ask.

"Like he was wishing she was someone else. And now I think I get it."

"Oh," I say lamely, because, well, _I_ don't get it. What she's saying, I mean. I have no idea where her ramblings about Cooper's love life are going.

"Today, when we were going through the plan again, and I was asking more questions about the threats that have been made to you and trying to get up to speed, I saw it all."

"All what?"

"All the emotions that have ever been missing from him before. They were all there, plus a few extras. And times about a thousand. I can see it clearly."

"See what clearly?" I ask. Because she's so not being clear right now.

She laughs, finishing up her handiwork in an area that is kind of personal; a place that I hoped Cooper would be the next person to explore.

"You two are blind, I swear," she says. "Okay, all set here." She stands up and looks at me. "Get dressed and we'll be downstairs for when it's time to make the phone call."

"Right," I say, beginning to get nervous again. Because after the phone call, the action begins.

Angie leaves and I grab my cell phone, wanting to make one quick phone call before I join the group.

I dial a number I know so well – better than my own. I hear his voice, deep and sexy as ever, though it's his business tone and he's telling me and a thousand others to leave him a message. It's not exactly personal. But it _is _Cooper's voice. And for now, that is all that matters.

_Beep._

"Coop, hi," I say. "It's me. I'm, uh… god, I don't know what to say. Are you okay? Are you hurt? How could you just go off and get yourself captured and hurt like that? And why did you have to leave me behind, with no clue about what you were up to? Huh, I guess I do know what to say. Coop… I don't know what's going to happen next, but… I am going to try to help you. I need to try. Because… you matter to me. More than anything. More than any_one. _Cooper, I… I l-love you," I stammer, nervously. "And I know I shouldn't. I know that you don't really feel that way about me. But I can't help it that I feel that way. I love you so much, and right now you're in danger, so I'm coming after you, and I'm going to try. And if something happens to me, and you're wondering why I did it, why I put myself in danger for you, hopefully you'll hear this and know why. It's because I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't try everything in the world to help you. I hope to see you soon, and for us both to be okay. And I hope that when this is all over, I can kiss you. And not as part of some ruse, either."

_Oh god, I'm totally rambling. I'm not even sure what I'm saying anymore. How do you delete these things and re-record?_

"I, um… I love you, Coop. Please be okay," I finish in a low voice, and hang up quickly, before I can ramble any more.

I dress quickly and head downstairs, where many people are waiting for me so we can get this show on the road.

I sit down at the kitchen table, next to Barrett, and when he nods, I grab my phone and call another cell phone number that I'm familiar with. Only this one belongs to a man that makes me skin curl right now.

"Heather," he says, when he answers. His voice sounds like acid.

"Tad," I say, nervously, my voice quivering.

"I was wondering when you would call," he says. His voice is not distorted like it was the night he made that phone call to my cell phone. It's like he doesn't care anymore about disguising himself. It's like any sanity he had when I first met him is gone, and he's completely unhinged now.

"Where's Cooper?" I ask, even though Barrett had asked me not to bring Cooper's name up right away.

"He's in a bit of pain, but he's right here. Heather… he's not who I want. You know that, baby."

"Is he okay?" I ask slowly, petrified of his answer.

"I'm sure he's been better," he says.

"Let him go, Tad. He's done nothing to you, and you're right… he's not who you want. So just let him walk away. Safely," I add.

"And why would I do that?" he asks, seeming genuinely baffled.

"To be nice?" I ask. "Because it would mean a lot to me," I add. "You know, your _girlfriend._"

"We're still dating?" he asks, sounding suspicious and confused.

"Um, well, I didn't break up with you. Did you break up with me?"

"No," he says. "But… you haven't called me in nearly a week."

"Bad communication skills," I explain, trying to work his apparent insanity to my advantage. "My bad."

"So we're still dating," he says, like he's thinking about this. "I don't believe it."

"I can't exactly prove it to you right now," I say.

"Prove it! Yes! That's what I want. If you can come over here and prove it, I'll let your boy here go."

I can barely breathe.

"How do I even know he's okay?" I manage to get out.

I hear a rumbling, a few strange noises, and moaning.

"Say hi to my girlfriend," Tad says. "She's on her way to come and see me."

"No…"

I swallow, recognizing Cooper's voice at once.

"She's going to prove her love to me. I think if she does that, I'll let you go. But I think I'll hold onto you until she can get here."

"No… Heather, no. Don't do it."

My stomach is in knots. He sounds out of it. Not near-death or anything, just… out of it.

"Is he okay?" I ask, gripping the phone so tightly, my hands feel numb.

"He's just got a little head wound. That's all. But he'll be fine once you get here and you and I get reacquainted," he says in a voice that sounds more like a hiss.

"You son of a bitch!" I hear Cooper yell, sounding more with it now – and totally angry.

"If you're still at his parents, I'm down the street, behind Parker's Supermarket, in a white van. I'll see you walk across the lot, and if I spot any cops near you at all, or coming after me on foot or in cruisers, your friend, Cooper, won't make it out of here alive. And believe me, Heather, I mean that."

I swallow hard. "And when you have _me_, he goes free, right?" I ask.

"If I have you, I have absolutely no need for him. He goes free, and he'll be fine."

"Me for him," I repeat, staring into Barrett's fearful eyes. I can see that Barrett is already questioning the plan completely. And I'm starting to understand why. There's no way for them to help me until it's too late. Not without something terrible happening to Cooper.

"You for him. You have ten minutes."

I stare at Barrett as I say the words.

"I'll see you soon, Tad."

"I can't wait, baby," he says.

"Heather, no!" I hear Cooper yell, before the line disconnects.

I stand up and look at everyone around me, seeing that they're already ready to talk me out of it. They're already thinking this is the worst plan ever, or they're afraid of Cooper's wrath.

All I can think about is Cooper. His smile. His constant five-o-clock shadow and how it feels under my hand when we're kissing. His lips on mine. His body against mine last night as we kissed freely. His long dark, wavy hair. Those piercing blue eyes that seem to see into my soul. And the fact that he put everything on the line today to keep me safe. I love him.

I've never loved anyone this much.

"I'm going," I say.


	17. Chapter 17

**Hi! Sorry for the delay in posting – and THANK YOU so much for the feedback!!! Hope you enjoy the next part!!**

**CHAPTER 17**

My mom once said something to me when I was first starting out in showbiz. I'll never forget it: I was fifteen and it was my first concert. I was terrified to get out on stage because, you know, there were people out there. Screaming people. Lots of people. And I was shaking backstage like a big baby. She put a strong arm around my shoulders, held me close, and said, "you have nothing to fear except fear itself."

I won't lie; I didn't understand what it meant at the time. I wasn't scared of fear, I was scared of the people. And, looking back, I realize she just wanted me to get out there so I could become really famous and make a lot of money, which she could later steal from me. But whatever. Right now, the memory comes to me for some strange reason. I mean, I could be thinking about anything in the world, but I'm thinking about my mom, and about being scared to death of the strangers that were waiting for me to sing.

I walk toward it, the white van, I mean, and think about how I was just a kid then. I was scared of a room full of strangers. And now, more than a decade later, I realize something scary. I hadn't even thought back then about how there could be a crazy stalker in that crowd of screaming people. I hadn't though about someone like Tad obsessing over me, and it all leading to this. To me preparing to give myself over to him in exchange for the man I love.

"You have nothing to fear except fear itself," I utter to myself with each step. I can hear my mom's voice so clearly, and I think that now I get it. I cannot give into my fear of Tad. If I give in to that, Cooper doesn't stand a chance. _I_ don't stand a chance. I have to swallow the fear because fear is just an intangible thing. It can't get me.

All the same, though, my heart feels like it's in my stomach.

I am not sure where Barrett, Angie and the others are. They can't show even a glimmer of their presence or Tad will hurt – possibly even kill – Cooper. And I made it crystal clear that we could not take _any _chances on that threat. As soon as Cooper is safe, I told them they can try anything they want.

But I have a strong feeling that Tad will be long gone with me by then. But… it's worth it. I love Cooper more than my own life. I realized that in a moment of total clarity the instant I learned he was in danger. I know that whatever my sacrifice is, it's totally worth it.

I wonder if this is how Cooper felt when he was heading out this morning in an attempt to capture Tad and protect me. He knew it could be dangerous, hence his lie to me as well as his complete refusal to involve me in his plans. He knew it could be dangerous, and he went anyway. Did he think any sacrifice was worth it to keep me out of the danger being dangled before me? Is there any chance at all that Cooper loves me the way I love him?

I can't think about that possibility right now, though. It's totally futile for one thing. There's every chance that this whole thing will not end well for one of us. Or even for both of us. And there's the chance he just loves me as a good friend, and is feeling emotional because of the situation, just as he said last night. And I can't deal with that kind of disappointment when I'm heading toward a white van and into Tad's creepy trap. I need to be at my best! Love is just not something I should think about right now.

It's not what Lois Lane would do.

My heart rate speeds up as the van gets nearer and nearer to me. I'm almost there. "You have nothing to fear, except fear itself," she'd said. God, my mom was so cool. I never thought she'd leave me. Ever. But she did. Jordan… I never thought he'd cheat on me. I never thought he'd totally abandon me. But he did. My dad abandoned me but he came back. All the same though – there was a time where he'd let me down and completely left me behind. The only person in the entire world who's never let me down…

… I'm approaching it; how can a white van look so huge and scary…

… the only person who's been good to me consistently, he's inside that van, and he's been hurt. He's never let me down. He's never left me…

"Cooper," I mutter quietly – desperately – as I reach the back door to the van. I pull my arm up and fold my hand, preparing to knock. I'm breathing fast and furiously. Screw my mom's saying – I have so much more than simple fear to be afraid of right now. I'm not heading on stage and this is not a simple case of stage fright.

This is a life or death situation. Just as I realize that awful fact, I do it. I knock.

The door opens slowly, and I see a set of familiar eyes burning into mine. God, how could I have kissed this man for a whole month? Laid beside him and called him my boyfriend? How could I get near a man with eyes as evil as these? Tad looks at me though, and it's like they're laughing. His eyes, I mean.

"Heather," he says calmly.

"Yes?" I say, only it comes out as a whisper and a squeak. Some detective I am, huh? I can't contain my nervousness one bit.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," he says, holding a hand out.

I look at the proffered hand, but don't take it. I look back up at Tad and huff. "We had an agreement. Me for him. Where is he?"

"No…"

Cooper. That's his voice! He's in the dark of the van; I can't see him. "Coop?" I call out, looking past Tad.

"_Please_," Cooper breathes. "Heather. If you care about me at all… _run_," he says desperately. His voice is laced with pain. I'm not sure if it's the physical pain he's in, or if he's simply pained at the idea of witnessing me get kidnapped while he's set free. If, you know, Tad keeps his word.

"I can't," I whisper, loud enough for him to hear. He knows I can't run when he's in there, in danger, but still I hear him let out a long, shaky breath; I can almost picture him shaking his head in denial. I hear his breath catch in such a way that it sounds like he's crying. But I know that can't be the case. Cooper would never cry. He's just… he's not a crier. I've never seen him cry before. Not during the last big blowout with his parents that I witnessed before he pretty much disconnected himself from their lives. Not when that girl he was dating throughout college, Lara, broke his heart. Just… never. I've never seen him cry. This doesn't mean that he hasn't cried, you know, in private. But… it just doesn't seem like Cooper.

"Well," Tad says, breaking me from my reveries. "This _is _touching. Both of you are willing to die to protect the other one. But, _Coop, _you lose."

Now my breath catches. What does he mean Cooper loses? Is he going to kill him? Oh god…

"I have what I want now," Tad continues, eyeing me. "Heather, if you are willing to keep up your end of the deal, I am willing to show you that I am a man of my word. You get in, and he will go free. Safely," he adds slowly, knowing how important that is to me.

He holds his hand out to me again, and this time I take it immediately. This is why I came. There are no second thoughts. Not if there's a chance Tad will keep his word like he's saying.

He lifts me into the van, groaning quite a bit. "Gosh, that wasn't too easy for me. But… in time, you'll be thin again like you used to be, and it'll be completely easier for me to lift you in and out of this van.

I hear Cooper breathing – he's breathing faster and faster, with each word out of Tad's mouth. I can almost feel his rage coursing through him.

"Let him go now," I say, scared Tad won't do it after all. Afraid Cooper might blow a fuse and attack Tad, getting himself killed in the process, which would make my sacrifice all for nothing.

"You don't want to say goodbye first?" Tad asks in the darkness. I can hear the joy in his tone. I feel Tad's hand on my back and jump. I hadn't realized he'd moved so close to me so quickly. He leads me a few steps over to the left and pushes me down. "He's right here, my love."

Once crouched, I reach my hand out tentatively and find him. I find Cooper's face. The moment my hand finds his stubbly cheek, he practically stops breathing and he moves his face deeper into my hand, showing affection in this quiet way in the dark.

"Why, Heather?" he whispers, shaking his head slowly. "Why did you do this? How could you—"

"You know why," I whisper.

I hear him take a deep breath in, and a quivering breath out. "I can't believe this. I… I am so sorry," he says.

"Sorry? For trying to save me when nobody else was doing anything?" I ask.

"I promised you nothing would happen to you," he says in a tortured voice. "I promised you he wouldn't get anywhere near you."

"You promised you'd take care of me. You've always taken care of me, Coop. That's your promise that's always mattered most; it's the one you never said out loud and you've always kept without ever even trying."

I realize I'm crying and I put my arms around Cooper's neck, pulling him to me. He buries his head in my neck and I can feel him squeeze his eyes shut in fury. I feel wetness on my neck and put a hand in his hair, closing my hands intensely in the beautiful locks I cannot see.

"Time's up, folks," Tad says.

He takes a step toward us, and in a moment of fear and instinct, my grip around Cooper tightens. I hear the sound of two chains touching or metal or something and realize why Cooper feels like he wants to grip me but can't. His hands are handcuffed behind his back. From the sounds of it, his ankles are cuffed as well.

"No!" Cooper yells, as Tad pushes me away and grabs him. "Heather, get out!"

I sit frozen to the spot, knowing this is it. This is the moment of truth. And Tad said if I tried to run he'd kill Cooper. I'm rooted in place, my eyes wide as saucers and I'm not breathing. I'm just waiting.

I hear struggling, the sounds of a punch being thrown and a groan. Cooper's groan. Tad hit him. Cooper's most likely in amazing pain, and he's handcuffed and he's still putting up a fight, having to be refrained.

"Let's go!" Tad yells. The van immediately begins moving, with a screech, as its back door slides open.

The moon outside lights the silhouettes of Cooper and Tad. Cooper looks handsome as ever, though in pain. And he is handcuffed, I can see that now. Tad looks just awful and menacing. Cooper's trying to stay in the van, and Tad is trying to push him out of it. I can't believe how much control Cooper is able to have in his condition. I can't believe he's able to put up any kind of a fight. But he's still in the van as we're speeding off to who knows where.

Finally, Tad grabs Cooper's cuffed hands and Cooper looks straight past him and finds me. His eyes lock with mine and I see it.

Oh god, I see it all, just as he's pushed out.

The van door is slammed shut immediately after Cooper's gone, and I can already hear Tad laughing. I scramble to the van's back window and look through, seeing him – my Cooper, crouched on the street, looking at us desperately. Helplessly. Whatever they put him through before, it couldn't have been the torture he's going through right now. He's pounding the pavement with his two hands, and his body's heaving like he's having some kind of fit. He stares at us as we move away from him. He looks so small and helpless right now.

That's what I see even through my tears. That's what I see as we move further away from him.

And in his eyes…

… I shudder, remembering those eyes burn into mine before he was thrown out.

In his eyes, I saw it all. I saw the answers to all of my questions.

He loves me just as much as I love him. And I just made his worst nightmare into a reality.

I jump when a light turns on; my eyes hurt from the brightness. I see Tad smiling at me. It's a triumphant smile and suddenly I feel scared to death.

He takes a step toward me.

"It's just you and me now, baby."


	18. Chapter 18

**Sorry for the long delay in posting – I have had some major computer issues lately. But I hope you're still reading the story! Thanks for all the feedback! MAC**

**CHAPTER 18**

Fear is a funny thing. It can really get to you. It's like this loud booming noise, and you're not sure if the sound you hear, that you can't ignore, is your heart racing, your bones shaking, your teeth chattering, or your fast breathing. The loud sound in my ears is most likely all of those things because… well right now, this is my existence. Fear is my existence. Tad is sitting, staring at me, a look of total triumph on his face. And me? I'm feeling this fear-thing. It's not as easy to get rid of as my mother had made it seem years ago when I'd suffered stage fright. No. It's impossibly loud and scary.

I see a man sitting a foot away from Tad now. When did he get here? I didn't notice him before…

Who is he?

I don't know where the others are. I know there are others. Someone's driving this horrible van, for starters. And… the Heather Wells Must Die Club has four members. That much I remember from what Barrett told me before.

Barrett.

At that thought, I remember something. Something that helps my fear dissipate, even just a little. I came into this van with a plan. Oh my god, that's right! I have a plan! I almost want to jump for joy and smile ear-to-ear about this fact, but… well, that might give me away and cause Tad to check me out, and if he does that he'll totally discover it. My plan, that is. My wire, more specifically.

Angie wired me. The plan was to get Cooper out safely and get me into the van with a wire. I try to describe where we're going, ask Tad, get the dirt, and the cops get a lead, and they come and get me. They won't put on sirens or do anything suspicious that'll tip Tad off. They'll simply wait for the van to pull over and they'll make their move and I'll be safe.

Gosh, it's just so perfect! I don't know why I was so wrapped up in all that fear before. I guess once Cooper was thrown out and I was alone with Tad, it was natural to feel fear. Cooper always makes me feel safe. Without him, it's a bit tough to get that feeling. But… it's not impossible. I mean, I'm a capable, independent woman… with a _plan. _

Although, I can't let Tad know about my wire. I stare at Tad. He's whispering to the other guy now. I have to figure out if my wire works without drawing attention to myself.

How did Angie say this thing worked?

I begin checking myself out, when I see it. My ring. Of course! I have to push on the little fake diamond, and it activates the wire. Both wires actually. I have a wire so I can listen to Barrett and company, as well as a totally separate wire so they can listen to me. The wires are ridiculously tiny, but all the same, I don't want Tad to get too close. I mean, he has me exactly where he's always wanted me, so clearly the man is not an idiot.

I push on the fake diamond and look around nonchalantly, waiting for some sign that it's working.

I can vaguely hear something in my ear now. I try not to let my facial expression change. I don't want Tad to notice anything, but I'm trying to listen. To make out the voices.

"Do you have Cartwright?" I hear someone ask. I think that's Barrett. "Great, send him in," he says. "I'll be lucky if I get through this conversation with my life."

Yup. Definitely Barrett. He's been afraid of Cooper's wrath since this plan came to fruition at Cooper's parents' house.

After a few moments, I hear a string of curses, and a passionate anger belonging to a voice I know so well. It's Cooper. He's in the room with Barrett now. And he's _so_ not happy.

"What were you thinking?" he yells, sounding truly about to lose it. I hear a loud bang, like a fist pounding a table or something being thrown at a wall or something. "How could you let her do that? Have you not been paying attention to this case at all? Do you honestly have no idea what he's been threatening to do to her?"

He groans really loudly and my heart just goes out to him. I know how he feels. I was beyond angry when I learned that Tad had beat up Cooper and captured him. I couldn't stand the idea of him being in danger. And I felt helpless. Cooper, right now… he sounds so angry and just so helpless.

"She insisted; this was her plan, and—"

"Of course she insisted! She'll put herself in danger every single time to spare someone else. We were supposed to protect her! She could insist until she was blue in the face and we were just supposed to protect her! I would've been fine. I can handle him. Now she's in there with a bunch of crazy people that want…"

He trails off.

"Cartwright, hey—"

"I can't believe this. I cannot believe that sick, twisted psycho has her. That was _his _plan, Barrett. _His plan. _And you handed it to him. And you're honestly telling me that this move is our new plan? That this was our only option?"

"We'll get her back. We have a better chance of getting him now than we did before."

"From where I'm sitting, she has a better chance of being tortured and possibly killed than she had before."

My breath catches at that. I mean, I knew when I agreed to take Cooper's place I was in danger. But I hadn't really let myself wrap my mind around it. Tad really is crazy. And… there's a decent chance that I won't make it out of this situation okay at all. He _could_ torture me. Do the things he said he'd do in those horrible notes. And… he could kill me. He wrote that in the notes as well.

And yet… if I had to make the choice again, I'd still put myself right here if it meant that Cooper would be safe. Cooper…

I listen again, but hear nothing. Neither man says anything for a few long moments. I can just picture the major jaw-clenching that must be going on right now in that room. Poor Cooper.

"If _anything _happens to her—"

His voice is shaking – just a bit. Enough to tear at my insides for putting him through this. And boy do I know how he feels. I felt the same exact way an hour ago!

"We'll get her back," Barrett says in that soothing voice he uses when Cooper gets all worked up.

It gets quiet for a moment again, and I stare at Tad. He isn't even looking at me. He doesn't seem aware that I'm even here right now. In my mind, I'm not here right now. I'm somewhere else, a fly on the wall to a private conversation between the cop on my case and the love of my life.

"What's the plan?" Cooper finally asks, sounding on the edge of a nervous breakdown, but like he's trying to keep it together.

"Buddy, before we get to that, you really should get that looked at," Barrett says, and I feel sudden panic. Get what looked at? What's wrong with Cooper? "Looks like you might need stitches."

_Stitches? _I hadn't gotten a good enough look at Cooper when I saw him; I hadn't noticed blood. I hadn't felt it. Had I? Everything had happened so fast. Was he hurt badly? Oh, Coop…

"The hospital's just—"

"If you honestly think I could leave, go to a hospital, right now—" Cooper says, and I can hear a touch of incredulity in his tone.

"Look, I didn't think so. I just thought I'd check," Barrett says.

"Hey Cartwright," I hear a female voice say. Angie. She's there now. "That looks bad. You okay? You know, you might need stitches."

I feel knots in my stomach at that.

"I'm fine," Cooper says, sounding beyond annoyed now. "Once again, Barrett, what's the plan?"

"She's wired so we can hear her and she can hear us," Angie says. "I helped wire her, so they run under her clothes, against her skin. He won't see them."

"So _everyone_ helped her put herself in this psycho's hands, in total life-threatening danger?" Cooper asks, with a small hint of sarcasm.

"If we didn't help her, she would've gone alone," Angie tells him.

"You could've tied her to a chair, Ange. You're a cop; I think you could've handled her."

_Tied me to a chair?_ _What? _That is so Cooper. Cooper would tie me to a chair in a heartbeat to keep me uninvolved with a case.

"You know, I'm not sure I could've, Cartwright," Angie shoots back indignantly. "She was pretty determined."

There's a long pause and I stare again at Tad. I can't understand why he's not even looking at me right now. He's been planning this for years; to kidnap me and make me his. Now him and his freaky Heather Wells Must Die Fan Club members have me and none of them seem all that interested.

As if knowing that he's being watched, Tad meets my gaze and leers at me in a way that makes my skin crawl.

Okay, so none of them seem that interested in me _yet. _I can only imagine what he's got in store for me.

"Where's the receiver to her wire?" Cooper asks suddenly, with some urgency.

"It's over here," Barrett says. "We haven't heard anything yet."

"She has to activate it," Angie explains. "I told her how. Here, let me see."

I wait for a moment for them to realize that I did activate it. I can't exactly say "testing, testing, 1-2-3, can all the cops hear me?" in front of Tad. I just don't think it would bode well for me.

"She can hear us," Angie says. "But she hasn't activated the one so we can hear her. Heather—"

I jump at the sound of my name. I wasn't expecting to hear anyone address me. For about ten minutes it's just felt like I've been eavesdropping on private conversations.

"Heather, if you can hear me, you need to push on the little rhinestone on your shoe to activate the other wire. Good job, by the way, with the diamond."

I bring my legs up, hugging my knees to my chest, careful not to draw too much attention from Tad.

"Don't be scared, baby," Tad says, obviously mistaking my movement of hugging my legs close to me for fear. Then he goes back to talking quietly with the other guy.

I slowly move my hand toward my shoe. How had I forgotten about the stupid rhinestone? Before I get too bothered by it, though, I push on the center of the rhinestone, hopefully activating the other wire.

I wait for a moment, holding a breath.

"Great. The light's on. Good job, Heather."

I open my mouth out of instinct to say 'thank you', but catch myself. I don't exactly need to look crazy in front of Tad.

"I can't hear anything," Cooper says. He sounds really nervous.

"It's just quiet right now," Barrett says. "She's fine, obviously, if she followed Angie's instructions just now."

"Heather?" Cooper asks.

I want to tell him I'm okay. So badly. But I bite my bottom lip until I can practically taste blood.

"Why can't we hear _anything_?" Cooper asks them.

I can't take it anymore. I clear my throat quietly, hoping it's enough for Cooper, but not enough to tip Tad off that something's up.

"Heather?" Cooper asks, hopefully. At least his tone seems hopeful. I hear him release a long breath. "Heather, listen to me. You're going to be okay. We're going to get you out of there safely. Heather…"

That's reassuring anyway. Except I know that that's what he's going for. Reassurance. Because five minutes ago, he was telling Barrett that I'm in a pretty good position to be tortured and killed.

"Okay, baby, it's show time," Tad says, startling me. I had completely forgotten about him. Listening to Cooper's voice, I'm not in this creepy van with this awful man, but in daydreams where I'm safe… with Cooper.

I swallow, trying to regain my composure. "Show time?" I ask, warily, my voice trembling at the implications that could go along with the word 'show time' for a guy like Tad. "What do you m-mean?" I stutter.

Tad's walking towards me.

"Cartwright, calm down," Barrett says. "Heather, try to stay calm. It's the only way you can maintain some control. Remember – he's unstable. He's not in control. If _you_ are, you _can_ have an upper hand."

"Give us some privacy," Tad says to the other guy that he'd just been talking to.

The other guy – who looks just a bit younger than Tad – leaves the room, quickly running his gaze over me first.

"I just feel like you and I should get better acquainted. It's not like you let me anywhere near you when we were dating," Tad adds, crouching down, moving his face close to mine. "And you've been my ultimate fantasy for a long… time… now," he finishes, running a finger over my cheek.

I'm trying to take Barrett's advice. You know – remain calm. But… he's sitting really close to me right now. Uncomfortably close. He's talking about living out his fantasies with me, and he's touching my cheeks, his finger finishing near my lips, which just totally gave me the chills and caused me to gasp.

I regret the gasp immediately though, knowing Cooper can hear every little sound coming from me.

"Cooper, _relax_," Angie says in a soothing tone.

"If he lays one finger on her—" Cooper starts, his voice thin and pained, but he doesn't finish. Maybe because I can hear him. I don't know.

I want so badly to spare him this. I mean – now that I think about it – what if the wire was a horrible idea? What if Tad tortures me and then he does kill me, and Cooper has to suffer through _hearing _it all? Oh god…

The therapy bills.

I could never survive it, if the tables were turned right now. I'm here at all because the tables were turned.

I gulp and look at Tad. I have to get a grip or he's going to win. And I can't let Cooper go crazy listening to anything bad happen to me. Not if I can help it. Plus – _I_ really don't want anything bad to happen to me.

"Okay," I say to Tad, putting a piece of hair behind my ear and fixing him with the most serious look I can muster up.

"Okay?" Tad asks eagerly, putting a hand in my hair and touching – more like petting – the strands. "You'll let me live out my fantasy?"

"Yes," I say. I try to look like I mean it and not that I'm, you know, totally grossed out by the idea.

"Heather, what are you doing?" Cooper asks.

I so badly want to tell Cooper to stop talking to me already, because my instinct is to talk back, and I really cannot do that right now. I have to ignore him. Plus, a plan that will keep me in control ala Barrett's suggestion is slowly developing. God, I hope it works and doesn't totally backfire, because I really do not want to live out Tad's fantasies with him.

"We need to get her out of there _now,_" Cooper says. He honestly sounds like he's lost his cool completely. Like he's losing his mind – all sanity – because of this whole thing. And he sounds downright angry. "Who's tracking her?" he yells to someone.

"A helicopter has been following their progress," Barrett says. "But, Cartwright, we can't go in there guns blazing and rescue her. We can't show a siren, we can't show a shadow, we can't show any bit of ourselves. You know that. They've got a team, and you saw for yourself that they all have guns. We can't take the chance of what he'll do if we make any kind of move right now. We have to play it safe and get her when the time is right."

Man, he's good. He's good at saying everything so clearly and calmly – especially when Cooper's all worked up.

I never take my eyes of Tad's. He does, though. He goes from staring into my eyes like a lovesick fool one second to completely staring at my hair or my lips or some part of my body the next. And in his eyes, I see a hunger that scares me.

But – I have to keep the upper hand. I know Tad. I've been inside his mind a little bit. Every single letter he ever sent me has been a glimpse into his sick and twisted mind.

"You want me?" I ask. "I'm yours."

"Heather," Cooper says, in a voice that's cautioning me not to do anything stupid.

I ignore him and smile at Tad. I sit forward – the least flattering position for my stomach in these stupid pants that Mrs. Cartwright bought for me at Target. They're comfy if you're standing up, walking around, but not when you're sitting. They're a little snug. If I sit forward then it happens. You know. Some skin rolls over the edge. Skin that wasn't there to roll over any pants when I was just eighteen-years-old.

"I'd prefer if you'd kiss my stomach," I say, before lifting the edge of my sweatshirt up a little so that Tad can see it – all my skin.

I see him flinch and look at my stomach in clear disapproval. I know; you'd think I'd be really insulted. Well – I'm not. I'm nearly bowled over with relief. I think my plan could work.

"What's wrong?" I ask in my most innocent voice.

"It's just…" Tad starts, looking like he wants to word his concerns carefully. "Baby, you're still a little fat right now. I want you, baby. I do." He looks at my face. "God, I want you… I want you _then. _Can't you be like you were _then_? Before you gained all this weight? Can you be thin again? I want you _then._"

"But you have me _now. _And this is what I look like now. You… if you didn't want me as I am, then why did you go through all this trouble? Why did you kidnap me?"

He looks at me seriously, and for a moment he seems sane. Normal. Like he's really listening to me.

"You're right, baby. Maybe if I just close my eyes, I can picture you like you were then, while I make love to you _now_."

Okay, that was so not what I wanted him to say. I wanted him to say, "you're right; I find you grotesque now, so I should just let you go!"

I don't know exactly what to say right now, so I nibble on my bottom lip nervously, the little control I had over Tad for that split second beginning to fall away.

"Heather." It's Cooper's beautiful voice. So soothing. So safe. "You're doing a great job. Keep going."

He sounds beyond upset and just so nervous… but he's encouraging me to continue. He sees my plan. He knows as well as I do that Tad's main obsession with me is wanting me to be like I was then.

I slouch a little more, purposely making my stomach look worse. Less in-shape, less toned, more flabby, softer. I pull the shirt up a little again and giggle.

"Sure, if you think it would help you," I say to Tad. "By all means, close your eyes. Here, touch my stomach," I say, grabbing his hand before I lose my nerve completely and bringing it to my stomach.

With any other guy, I would never sit like this, I would suck my stomach in and try to appear slim as can be! This was the oddest thing in the world – purposely flaunting the weight I'd put on since I was a teenage pop star – weight I was actually comfortable with.

The minute Tad's hand touches my stomach, I flash back to last night. Almost twenty-four hours ago, Cooper and I were making out and he touched my bare stomach, causing both of us to feel enough electricity that he called a halt to our make out session completely. When Cooper touched me, it felt incredible. The moment Tad's hand touches my stomach right now, I feel revulsion course through me. But I try not to show it.

And Tad…thankfully, he looks like he's feeling some revulsion himself. I'm moving every inch I can to make sure everything he's touching is the opposite of those fantasies of his. Finally, when it's too much to bear, he pulls his hand away like it's been burned.

"I can't take this! You need to be thin again! Then, baby, _then _we can make love!"

I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding – and in my ear, I hear Cooper release a long breath as well. Relief.

"From now on, you're anorexic! No food for you. Just water. And the sauna."

"Sauna?" I ask. "Um… what sauna? Where are we going?"

"Good, Heather. That's good," Barrett says.

"We're going to _my_ own personal Fitness World. You're going in the sauna. You're going in the pool. You're going on the treadmill. And we're not stopping until you're thin. Baby, that's my promise to you."

Oh. My. God.

"I swear, I'm going to kill him," I hear Cooper say quietly.

"But first," Tad says, producing a needle out of his back pocket.

My eyes grow wide as saucers. "What's that?" I ask, fearfully.

"Something to relax you," Tad says.

"No—" I say.

But it's too late. He sticks the needle into my neck and releases the substance.

Immediately my lids feel heavy and I feel disoriented.

"No…" I say, sleepily. "Cooper…"

"Heather—" Cooper says. Through the fog in my head, I can still hear it. The guilt. The pain. The nervousness. The love.

I release a long breath, my head lolling to the side.

As everything turns to black, I hear Cooper calling my name urgently like a faint echo.

Then everything goes silent.


	19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

**Thanks for the awesome feedback! To new readers that have written – your comments are blowing me away!! I am so happy you like the story. I hope you enjoy the next part too! - MAC!**

**CHAPTER 19**

I open my eyes, greeted by a brightness that stings. I feel out of it – groggy. As I look around, it all comes back to me. The ugly van, the cold – uncomfortable – floor, the sore spot on my neck… Tad kidnapped me. Last night, I guess. It's definitely daytime now, and the sun's burning my eyes. At least I hope it's only been a couple hours. What if I've been out for a week? Or a month? I once saw a movie about someone that slept for seven years… she was in a coma though. Oh no – what if I've been in coma?

I look down at myself, seeing that I'm still in my sweat suit from Target that Mrs. Cartwright had given me yesterday. At least I think it was yesterday. Regardless, I can't have been wearing this for seven years. Or even a week. I don't smell yet.

A rumbling in my ear alarms me, breaking into my thoughts. I hear distant voices and remember the wire. Yes! My saving grace. Cooper is on his way to save me. They're tracking me with this fancy wire.

I look around, spotting no one from the van. Not Tad or any of his fan club cronies.

"Cooper?" I whisper quietly. Carefully.

"Heather?" a female voice says, sounding relieved. "It's Angie. Oh, thank god you're okay."

"Yes…" I say. I don't want to converse right now with her. She's very nice and all – and she's totally part of the Save Me team – but I'm not sure when Tad's going to be back and all I really want right now is to talk to him. To Cooper.

"Kyle, get Cartwright. She's awake. Tell him she's asking for him."

I want to hug Angie. How did she know exactly how I felt? Is it a woman thing? Did I mentally communicate it somehow?

"How long was I out for?" I ask, still whispering and looking around for someone. Anyone.

"About nine hours," she says. "Cartwright's been going out of his mind. Oh, speaking of which, here he is now."

"Heather?" Cooper says, and I can hear the nervousness in his voice.

"Coop?"

I hear him breathe out in relief. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice sounding thick and constricted.

"I think so. I feel okay," I answer honestly.

"What did he do? You've been unconscious for hours—"

"Drugged me, I guess. But I'm not sure with what. I just know that he put a needle in my neck and released something that took about five seconds to topple me."

I hear him take a couple deep breaths. I know what that means – he's regaining his composure. I honestly think when this is all over, Cooper's going to need therapy. Or at least a day at the spa. Either way, perfect birthday present for him! You know, if I live through this and all.

"But you feel okay now?" he eventually asks.

"Yes," I say. He doesn't need to know that I have a terrible headache. It'll just upset him. "Do you know where I am?" I ask, trying really hard not to sound as desperate as I feel.

"No," he admits. He truly sounds on the edge right now. "Can you give me a minute?" he says, away from the microphone. I assume he's talking to Angie. God, he sounds so tired; his voice is all croaky.

"Coop, have you slept at all?" I ask. "You sound awful."

He laughs humorlessly. "You think I could sleep right now?"

"If you're about to fall over, you should. You do me no good coming to my rescue practically narcoleptic."

"I'm fine. And I'm not about to go and take a nap, so forget about it." He's quiet for a moment. "Where is everyone? Why are you alone?"

"I… I don't know. I woke up alone just a little bit ago."

"Heather… I know why you did it," he says softly.

"Huh?" I ask, ever so eloquently.

"I got your voicemail," he explains.

I'm not even in front of him and my cheeks flush a deep red. Oh god! My confession of love voicemail? I forgot all about that. I left it for him to listen to, not for us to chat about!

"I guess I knew even before I heard you say it. But in your voicemail, you said something – assumed something – that I need to set you straight on."

"Okay," I say… and I have no clue what he's talking about. I don't really remember what I said, other than that I love him and was sacrificing myself to Tad for him. Or something along those lines.

He sighs. "You assumed that… that I don't feel the same way," he spits out, and I can hear that it's hard for him to say. Especially like this… on a microphone while I'm kidnapped, listening. And this is how we have to say these personal things to each other – me in a voicemail and him on a microphone. Because – let's face it – with us, abnormal and high intensity situations are the norm.

"You asked me to go out with you, more or less, awhile back. And I told you that I didn't want to be your rebound guy. I practically pushed you to go out with someone else, knowing exactly how nuts it would make me if you actually did. You're in the situation you're in, right now, because of me."

"That's not true—"

"You said you were putting yourself in danger because you love me. I think it's nuts that you could feel anything close to love for the person responsible for the mess you're in—"

"—well, I don't think you're responsible for—"

"—You said you did it all because you love me," he repeats, his voice quivering just a little on the last words. "—Heather, you're such a fool. That's exactly why _I_ was the one in your position yesterday."

I… I'm speechless. I don't know what to say. He's saying he loves me. That he made the same sacrifice I made for the same reason! I mean, I think I could see it all clearly that last time our eyes met. Before we were separated. I saw a look that seemed to say all of that.

But to _hear_ him say it…

I'm just speechless. But then it hits me; he's saying it because we're not sure I'll make it out of this. I'm in real danger. Cooper just spent hours wondering if I was alive most likely, since I was unconscious and unresponsive for nine hours.

All the same – a wonderful feeling stirs in my stomach at his words. And even if he is just saying it because he doesn't want anything horrible to happen to me, with me thinking he doesn't love me, it still makes me the happiest woman on earth. Despite the fact that I'm in the middle of my kidnapping and have just woken up from a drug-induced nap.

"Heather?"

"Yes?" I say, and then I sniffle.

"You're crying."

It's then that I realize I am. Crying, I mean. "It's just so sweet," I say, sniffling more.

"It's the truth," he says in a serious tone.

"Even if it's just something you're saying in case—"

"That's not an option, Heather. We're going to find you."

"But… you don't know where I am."

He sighs. "We lost you a couple of hours ago. The helicopter following you lost the van in the woods. We were following, and were within a couple miles – and you guys just disappeared."

He sounds really frustrated about that. I realize quickly we don't have time for this. For frustration, or helplessness, or even for confessions of love set to the music of a ticking time bomb. Suddenly fueled by the knowledge that Cooper might actually return my feelings – that we might actually have a chance together – I look around, determined.

I am not sure what I'm looking for, but I realize that I have to start talking about anything at all that might help him locate me.

I scramble to my feet, and move quietly toward the back window, pulling aside the shade so I can look out. I'm shocked to see darkness. I had awoken to an incredibly bright light before. I now realize that the bright light is an interior one. It's dark outside. But… if I was asleep for nine hours, and it was night time when I was drugged, then it wouldn't be dark out right now, would it?

"Heather? What's wrong? Why aren't you talking anymore?"

"It's dark outside," I whisper.

"It can't be. It's nine in the morning," he says.

"I'm looking out the window and it's dark," I say insistently.

"You couldn't have gone far enough in this time to pass through time zones," he says, in a half-joking way.

Then it occurs to me. As I stare out the window, I can't make out any distinguishable features of the great outdoors. Nothing to prove we're driving in the woods or anywhere for that matter.

"We're underground," I say quietly. "It's why you lost track of us."

Cooper's quiet, clearly taking it in.

"Cartwright, what've we got? How's she doing?" I hear Barrett say, his voice getting closer and closer to the microphone with each word. Obviously our "minute" alone is up.

"Get a man over to the area where we lost contact, and check for tunnels, caves, holes… anything," he says, in his full business voice. "They may have gone underground."

It all happens simultaneously. I hear Barrett spouting out orders to officers, just as I hear a noise coming from the same room as me. Or same truck, rather. I turn, seeing Tad and one of his cronies enter the back of the van through a little door that must lead to the front.

"Baby – you're awake!" Tad says. "Perfect. We're almost at our destination."

"Where would that be?" I ask.

"That's on a need-to-know basis. And you don't," he says, his deep voice – laced with unspoken threats – coursing right through me.

I feel a familiar sense of fear flutter in my stomach.

"Heather, don't worry." Cooper's voice soothes me in my ear. "Stay calm. Don't let him see that you're scared."

_But I am scared,_ I think to myself. My mom's old saying – "you have nothing to fear except fear itself" – is stupid. I fear Tad, and the guy next to him. And the guy driving the truck – whoever he is. I fear everyone in the Heather Wells Must Die Club. And why not? I'm Heather Wells. It's understandable!

"Um – who are you?" I ask the guy next to Tad, trying to keep control of the conversation – something Barrett had told me to do yesterday. Because, you know, Tad's unstable; he's not in control.

"Taylor," he says in an aggressive, almost accusatory way. "I'm Seymour's brother. I'm the mean one," he says coyly, smiling widely. "The scary one."

I'm so dead. I might as well throw myself from the van now. It's so not looking good for me if Tad's somehow the nice one of the bunch. "Oh," I finally say in a small voice.

"I've wanted a piece of you for a long time, cutie pie," Taylor says.

"You don't touch her!" Tad says, to my relief. "I'm running this operation, little brother. You're just my copilot."

"Heather, honey, listen to me," I hear Barrett say. "I've got information on this Taylor guy. He's more unstable than his brother, so be careful what you say to him," he warns. "He was in therapy for years dealing with a major inferiority complex. I'm guessing Tad has been calling him the 'copilot' all his life. That can work to our advantage. Another note, though, is that he's more obsessed with you than his brother – possibly as a way of showing up his brother. _But_ he will also do whatever his brother asks him to."

"Keep an eye on her while I give Finn the directions to our spot," Tad orders his brother.

Taylor looks at me – looks me up and down, actually. "Glad to," he says.

I smile quickly, self-consciously. He looks just like Tad… from before Tad's mega-makeover. In those photos that Cooper and I looked at that we found beneath the floorboards of Tad's old house in New Jersey, a younger Tad once looked just like the brother standing before me now. Glasses. Brown, messy, matted hair. Some pimples. A nice smile.

"So," I say, when I'm alone with Taylor. "You're Seymour's brother, huh? I see you got the more favorable looks," I say.

He looks at me in surprise, before smiling. "Really?" he asks. "You think so?"

"Yeah," I enthuse. "I mean, clearly your brother had some plastic surgery. And you are natural. You don't need surgery to look good."

His smile grows. "You know, I've been pretty obsessed with you. I was there the night we almost got you. Some creep hit me pretty hard that night," he says, getting mad. He's talking about Cooper. Obviously. "But I got him good – thank god I had my brass knuckles on."

My mouth falls open, thinking of how badly Cooper must've gotten hit that night. No wonder he was knocked unconscious! Oh, Coop…

"I'm not sure why you went through all that trouble, trying to kidnap me and whatnot. I mean, all you had to do was write me a nice letter. I would've written back. We could've been friends."

"I don't want to be your friend," he says, suddenly angry. He takes a step toward me and grabs my arm roughly, causing me to give out a little yelp.

"Heather?" Cooper says in my ear nervously.

"I want to be your boyfriend!" Taylor says. "Except my brother does too!" he says angrily, clearly frustrated – throwing my arm back at me. "And my wife doesn't seem to want me to be your boyfriend, either."

"Your wife?" I ask, shocked.

"She's in the Club, too," he explains. "She wants you to _die_ for an entirely different reason than we do."

Great. I have the jealous wives of my anti-fan club out to get me as well.

"We've got confirmation," Barrett says. "There was a hole that took them underground – a mile from where we lost them. Our men are going in."

"They're already hours behind them," Cooper says.

"Well, it's all we've got," Barrett says. "They're going in, and moving forward. Heather, you just have to keep them distracted. Talking. Just the way you're doing."

"Taylor, if you don't stop flirting with her right now, I'm going to kill her now. I don't care what your brother says!" a woman says, storming into the back of the van.

"You must be Taylor's wife," I guess, causing her to leer at me.

Just then the van stops. Everyone's quiet, and I feel like I can hear my own heart beating in my ears.

"We're here, baby. Your new abode," Tad says, entering the back.

"You two, get everything ready. Now!" Tad orders, causing Taylor and his wife to open the back door to the van and jump out quickly.

Tad walks up to me and grabs my arm, pulling me out of the van and into the darkness.


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

_Hi all! Thanks so much for all the feedback and encouragement from past readers… and welcome new readers! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far! I really hope you all enjoy this next chapter… we're getting near the final stretch of this story… though there's still more to come (and hopefully not such a long wait between – sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up!) -- MAC_

**CHAPTER 20**

As Tad leads me through a dark corridor that definitely feels as though it's underground, my mind wanders. When you can't see anything and you're only option is to think about the fear gnawing at your insides, it happens. Your mind wandering, I mean. My mind wanders, of course, to Cooper. Poor stressed-out Cooper.

In my mind, he's rushing to my side, saving me from Tad. He runs to me desperately, sweat covering his forehead, his brows pressed together with concern. He gets to my side, stares intently into my eyes. With love, of course. And then… he crushes me against him, drowning me in the most passionate kiss. The kind borne from dire life-or-death situations. Like in the movies!

_Ooh, is it hot in this dark corridor, or is it just me?_

"In here, baby," Tad says, opening a door, breaking me from my sweet reveries. He takes my hand and brings me inside a very small room.

"Tell us what you're seeing, Heather," Barrett says. "Find a way."

"What's this room?" I ask, trying to be helpful to my Save Me Squad.

"An elevator," Tad says, smirking at me like he's privy to some inside joke. "Ever been in one?"

"Yes," I shoot back indignantly. Obviously Tad's making fun of me. And that's so not cool. I mean, I've had a very stressful night. I'm allowed to not recognize an elevator… even if it is pretty standard-looking.

"We're going up?" I venture aloud.

"Yup," Tad says. "To your new abode."

I sigh.

"You're doing great, Heather," Cooper says.

After what seems like eternity – but in all actuality is about ten seconds – the doors slide open, and I find myself in another dark room.

"I can't see anyth—"

Before I can finish, a light turns on, and I see Tad smiling at me. "Welcome home, baby."

My mouth falls open as I look around this room. Pictures of me are everywhere. Every inch of every wall is covered in photos of me. Real and computer generated. "Oh god," I mutter. I feel like I'm going to be sick.

"What is it, Heather?" I hear Cooper say softly into my ear.

I look at Tad and try to smile. "I mean, oh _wow… _you dedicated this whole room to me. All these pictures… you must really care about me."

I barely get the words out, but I'm trying to be as descriptive as I can.

"Is it a shrine?" Barrett asks. "Is the room covered with pictures of you?"

"Yes," I say automatically. Then, remembering myself, I turn to Tad. "Yes, I can see you really care."

"Of course, baby. I love you."

"I… can tell," I manage.

I can't shake the feeling that there's something really familiar about this room. Have I seen it before? I look around. There's something about it. I have. I've seen it before. Though, obviously, when I saw it, every inch was not covered with photos of me.

I swallow, trying to be nonchalant as I look around, trying to picture the room without the shrine. I look for anything familiar. I inhale, hoping a smell will trigger it for me.

Nothing.

_Dammit! _My life depends on me figuring out where the hell I am… I instinctively think I've been here before… and I have a mental block? I cannot afford a mental block!

"Hey, baby, calm down. This is your new house. I mean, look around. It's all about you, Heather. Take a deep breath, and just _relax_. This is where you're going to spend the rest of your life."

That's when it happens. That's when I can't pretend anymore. Can't act calm. The rest of my life? How long will that be? Is he killing me soon? Am I here until I'm eighty? Both options absolutely suffocate me. So that's when I freak out. Like, really freak out.

I start breathing heavily. I can't catch my breath. "Oh god." I can't breathe. I'm beginning to wheeze.

"Heather," Cooper says. "Stay calm. Please." He's begging me; I can hear the desperation in his voice on that word, that _please_. To do what, I'm not sure. Clearly he knows I'm losing it. That all the control I had is completely slipping away. "Pull it together. You're strong. You are the strongest person I know," he says slowly, measuring each word with emphasis, with feeling. "You're so much stronger than him. Don't let him win."

That's when I notice it. On the wall. Straight ahead of me, over a fireplace. A bear's head. Wooden paneling on the walls. I look to my right and sure enough I see a floorboard lifted… the place where Cooper and I had first found photos of me. I was here with Cooper when I figured out that Tad was definitely my stalker.

This is Tad's house. The one in Jersey. Well, Seymour's house. I was here with Cooper, but the photos of me were in the floorboards. Now… they're everywhere. The room barely looks the same. But I am completely sure it is the same.

And I have to find a way to let Cooper know without outright saying it. I squeeze my hands tightly, together, grasping at my fingers, my thoughts racing. How can I tell Cooper, but seem normal to Tad?

Then, something occurs to me. And it's worth a shot… since it's the only shot I currently have, and all.

"That floorboard is broken," I say to Tad, trying to get my breathing back to normal. I wait. There's silence in my ears. Tad's just looking at me. I look around for another clue. I see the bear head. I had jumped when I saw it when I was here with Cooper. He joked that it wouldn't hurt me.

"And that bear head over the fire place is kind of scary," I add. "I really don't like it near so many photos of me. His mouth is right near my neck in that one picture, like he's about to bite me."

"Curious positioning," Taylor's angry wife says to me, sarcastically.

"Angel," Taylor says, like he's feeling defensive of me. And all I can think is: _this scary chick's name is Angel? _

"Picky, picky," Tad says to me, interrupting my flow of thoughts. "You're here all of five minutes and already you're shouting out your decorating orders. _Remove the bear head, fix the floorboard_."

"Well, you told me to calm down, so I'm just looking around. Taking it all in. My new home, I mean. And if it's going to be my new home, I thought I should tell you—"

"—I get it. You want to make it perfect," Tad says. "Like any couple's first home together should be."

_So not what I was thinking but that works! _"Exactly," I say brightly.

"Don't worry, baby, this is the house you're going to grow old in. So I'll fix it up good for you. There will be lots more pictures on these walls. Not just pictures of you, no. These walls will be covered with our new history. With pictures of us. But first, before any pictures are taken, Baby, we do need to take care of one thing."

Tad leers at me, and I wonder for a moment how it was even possible that he acted normal when I met him! Normal enough that I actually began to date him. I mean, now all I see when I look at him is this intense and deeply sick gaze fixed on me in the most obsessive and possessive way. And that's just upsetting; I've always thought of myself as such a good judge of character!

I strain my ears trying to figure out if Cooper figured out where I am from my clues. I am not sure what else to say without drawing attention to myself. But Cooper, Barrett, Angie - none of them are saying anything, which is kind of unusual since they've barely shut up since I turned the microphones on. Even if just to try to calm me down. But right now, they're not saying anything, and I have just explained the room to Cooper - the room we've both been in before, together - as best I can. It's my only chance of getting out of this! I am dying to know that he at least heard, so I can at least have hope that he's now on his way – moments away, even, from busting through that door.

I listen more closely.

_Silence._

As three sets of eyes – four now, as another familiar-looking man enters the room – stare at me, I feel completely alone. I feel an icy cold hand grip my heart in the absence of the comforting chatter of my friends in my ears.

"She thinks this is the whole house," Taylor says, a cruel smile on his lips.

I swallow nervously. "There's more?" I ask tentatively.

"This way, baby," Tad says, turning on his heel to walk toward the fireplace where the bear head is located.

My feet are stuck to the floor. They literally feel rooted to the spot. Fear has taken over my whole body. I don't want to follow him. The uncertainty about what he has in store for me, or some other sick room - maybe a bedroom - has created the most awful kind of fear that I have ever felt. My blood feels like it's really, actually run cold, and that it's no longer circulating to my fingers, or my toes, or even my face which feels totally numb.

Aside from that, the silence in my ears - the missing sound of Cooper's reassurance - is somehow deafening. And, the blurriness in my eyes makes me think that I may be crying. Though, I can't be sure. You know, because I'm so numb and all.

"Stop crying," Taylor says, and I detect a mixture of aggravation and sympathy. Is it my imagination, or do I also sense some guilt in this tone?

"Sorry," I stammer.

"Let's go!" Angel says angrily.

"She's stunned, I think," Tad says, a little triumph in his voice.

I can't move. Angel moves towards me and grabs my arm so hard that I gasp. And I think, once again about the awful silence in my ears.

It's kind of funny how silence can be deafening. I mean, not funny "ha ha", but… weird. All I want to hear is the sound of Cooper's voice – or anyone's for that matter – even though on some level it feels a little like I have multiple personalities. But as the silence intensifies, so does a feeling in my heart.

_I am completely alone. With these people. Who want to kill me._

I wipe the tear that has just escaped my eye, and put my chin up just a fraction of an inch higher, fixing my face with a determined expression. After all, I must remain calm. I mean, that's what Nancy Drew would do, right?

_Breathe in. Breathe out. _

Okay, I can handle this for a little while longer until my crew comes to save me.

I notice the other guy – the one who drove the van, I imagine, since I don't recognize him. He moves toward the bookshelf by the fireplace, near where Tad stands whispering something to his little brother. He moves a book very quickly – pulls it out – and puts it back. There are so many books on the shelf. Hundreds! I try to keep my eyes on the book he pulled, since I'm noticing it's _the _book. You know, the one that opens the whole case. No, I'm serious. The book case just split down the middle and revealed a room behind it! I've seen it in movies and on TV! But it's actually happening to me right now! Scary as that is, I can't help but feel like that's totally cool.

I stare at the book that he pulled, trying to remember which one it is.

"Come on, Baby," Tad says. "Let's look at your whole house."

"Um… okay," I say. "Is the rest of it behind the bookcase that just opened up?"

Even though I can't hear Barrett, Angie or Cooper anymore, it can't hurt to be as descriptive as possible. I speak with hope, because I guess I know there's nothing else I can do right now to save myself.

Angel – Taylor's so wrongly named wife – grabs my arm again and pulls me toward the book case.

"Ow!" I say, straining to pull my arm free. "Care to lighten the grip at all, Xena?" I say, knowing the request will be granted with most likely a tighter grip on my arm. But I don't care. She grimaces and does just what I'd suspected.

We're getting closer to the book now, and I focus on it.

"Moby Dick," I say, as we walk past it. "Um… good book!"

I think that's the right one anyway. It could be "Little Women," which I also mutter aloud. Suddenly I'm not so sure, so I name about three more titles on the two shelves it could have been on, knowing I'm confusing my captors at best. And if Cooper is somehow still listening, I'm sure he's confused as well.

We walk into the new room, and I look around fearfully. I hear a noise behind me, and see it's just the bookcase closing, locking us into what I can only describe as hell on earth.

Treadmills. Ellipticals. Stationary Bikes. A big pool. A sauna.

I'm in Tad's own fitness world… just as promised.

Oh. My. God. _It's my very own Death Gym._

"Dammit," I whisper, as tears prick my eyes. I can't believe someone thinks I look so bad that they'd resort to this. Do I really look that bad? A crazy group of people have kidnapped me, and before they can even do anything with me, they need to put me on a treadmill. They need to starve me.

Before I can get too lost in self-pity, however, Tad's voice comes up on me like a nightmare in the dark.

"I think we'll start with ten minutes on the treadmill, then you'll hit the sauna. Then the pool for laps."

I want to throw up, but instead I walk numbly to the treadmill. Well, Angel drags me there more or less. And I get on, while she sets the pace – "a mild jog for now."

As my feet begin moving like robots on the moving belt underneath them, tears fall from eyes freely – many of them. I wonder once again how someone could hate me – and the way I look – so much.

I didn't care before. I really didn't. But now, it kind of hurts. All over.

I pray silently, though loudly in my heart, for Cooper to burst through the door – or bookcase as it may be – to save me. Cooper, who couldn't possibly, I realize, want to date someone that is so out of shape that she'd get kidnapped and put onto a treadmill. I mean – who does _that _happen to? Not the datable type, that's for sure. My hopes for him are gone. I know he really cannot be attracted to me. Who could?

But I pray for him to save me all the same. We are, after all, friends. Best friends.

Sweat rolls down my face as I run until my legs start to feel like jell-o.

I look desperately up at Tad. He meets my gaze with his own laughing one.

"Baby, this is just the beginning of our lives together."

The tears continue falling as my feet stomp the ground and I run…

And run…

Sweat pours down my face as my ten minutes is almost up.

I just run, wanting so badly to run away. But I'm trapped. These sick people – they're all around me. They have me.

And all I can do is run. To nowhere.


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

**THANK YOU to everyone who's reading this story and giving me the great and encouraging feedback that motivates me!! Also – thank you oirishgoddess for your headline! I hope you all enjoy the next part!**

– **MAC**

**CHAPTER 21**

This is awful. Really. It's like those tabloid magazine headlines at the grocery store. KIDNAPPED AND FORCED TO EXERCISE. It's that ridiculous! After what seems like a lifetime, my ten minutes are up. Tad walks over to the treadmill and – as a man of his word – stops it. I immediately step off and almost fall right down; my legs feel like jell-o.

"Next stop: the pool!" he says, smiling triumphantly at me, as my fear is no doubt evident by the fact that I'm staring at him with my mouth gaping open and my eyes wide as saucers. Because, I mean, he can't be serious. Can he?

Realizing myself, I close my mouth and clear my throat. "Tad, what about a little break before the pool?" I suggest – trying to sound cool and casual. "We could talk! Since we're dating and all, I'd love to know more about you. You know, your history, what your favorite hobbies are, what your parents are like. What's your mom's name?"

"Don't mention my mother!"

"How dare you!"

Taylor and Tad speak simultaneously. Okay – they clearly have an issue with their mother. Given the situation, I probably should've assumed.

"Sorry," I say quickly, trying to do damage control. "I just want to know all there is to know about you."

_And buy time for my own well-being, _I add silently.

"I was only going to have you do five laps for starters," Tad says, breathing heavily. "You'll do ten now."

I fear the mention of his mother possibly pushed him completely over the edge. What is wrong with me? This is so not how Nancy Drew would handle the situation.

"But… I have no bathing suit," I say.

"So you'll swim in your clothes."

"You can't be serious. Tad, can't we just go out and buy a swim suit? I'm sure there's a Target somewhere around—"

"The name's Seymour. And you'll swim now."

I look at Tad, and realize immediately he's not kidding. Looking at Taylor, I can see that if I resist, I'll end up in the water by force. Burying my fear, I walk over to the steps of the pool and step in before I lose all nerve.

The water's freezing. And the fact that I'm fully dressed does not protect me from the chill that goes straight to my core as I get deeper into the water. I'm soaking and I don't care. Cooper must be close. He must be.

This thought alone is my only strength.

"Well, don't just sit there," Tad says, snapping me from all thoughts of rescue. "Get going – you have ten laps to do!"

I sigh, close my eyes, search for that strength once again, and go. I begin swimming the length of the pool – in my clothes.

The water flows over my head and into my clothes, touching my skin, as I move. I move slowly, lethargically. They're weighing me down, slowing me down. My clothes, I mean. But I keep going. I reach the wall, and turn around. I head back.

Halfway through my fourth lap, I look up and see Tad looking down at me with an obsession in his eyes that's clear as day. A hunger. And… I can't take it.

This is all familiar. So familiar. Me and Tad in a gym. At a pool. An innocent man died because of Tad's overwhelming obsession with… with me!

I stop swimming and stand up, panting.

"You're not done, baby," Tad says.

I splash him – anger winning over, snapping me out of my victim mentality. A man was killed because of this nonsense. There's no way that I'm going down without a fight!

"You're a coward," I say through gritted teeth. "And I'm not playing your game. That day – at Fitness World – you did it. You killed that guy," I say, my voice quivering.

He holds my gaze for a long moment and then a look of indifference flits across his face. He shrugs.

"He liked you too much," he says casually. "He wanted to meet you and talk to you. I couldn't have that."

"You're sick," I say. "That guy was at the gym, minding his own business, and you drowned him. You killed him!"

As I speak, I'm walking toward the steps. Because I'm done. I'm not swimming for Tad anymore. I'm not running on his treadmills. He can try to torture me all he wants. I'm so done giving in and pretending I want him so that I can buy time. I just… I can't do it anymore.

"I had my reasons!" he insists. "I only meant to render him unconscious," he adds. "He wasn't supposed to die. So get back in the pool and keep swimming!"

"No."

I'm on the last step, dripping, and my fists are clenched.

"I'm not swimming in the pool, _Seymour. _Just like we're not dating and you're not sane."

In a second, he's inches from me, with a vice-like grip on my arm. He's snarling.

Oh yeah, he's mad. My bout of outrage and courage has seemed to unleash his monster. And now, I'm wondering if I should've bit my tongue and kept doing the laps, kept playing the game.

"We are dating! As soon as you're thin again, we're going to be together!"

I look up at him hesitantly. "When do you think I'm going to be thin enough?" I ask. "If you keep doing all this to me," I begin, gesturing to the treadmill and pool, "and you don't let me eat anything, I'm not going to lose weight." I swallow. "I'm going to die."

"That's a risk I'll take," he says, his face now red with anger and the strength of his own obsession.

He pulls on my arm, trying to move me. I pull my arm out of his grip immediately. I mean, he's just admitted that he's willing to kill me on his quest to make me skinny. I am not about to let him drag me anywhere.

"Hey!" he says, grabbing my arm again, harder this time.

Suddenly I feel my legs being pulled out from under me. I look up and see Taylor has joined the show. Angel is by his side smiling.

"Have you said your piece now, princess?" Angel asks.

"I think she needs to be shut up," Taylor adds. "Seymour, did you hear her… she talked about mom!"

"I asked what she was like!" I say. "I didn't badmouth her."

"Well, maybe you should've," Tad says. "She was an awful woman. The most awful woman ever!"

_Oh god. I should've figured._

"Okay. Well, my bad," I say. "I won't ever mention her again. Think you guys can all let me down now?"

"Yeah," Tad says. "In there."

_Where?_

They begin walking with me in their arms. I can feel Tad's and Taylor's grips bruising me – they aren't being at all gentle. Suddenly, I feel myself being thrown until I hit a wall. And that really hurts. I look up to see I'm in a tiny, wooden room.

I feel a little light-headed immediately. And why not? I haven't eaten in pretty much a full day, I was drugged last night, taken underground, made to run for ten minutes on a treadmill – which I totally fell off of the last time I was at a gym, you know when all of this started – and now I'm being closed into a small room that's pretty hot.

I look around, realizing immediately where I am. The sauna. And the heat is up already. Way up.

I always loved saunas too. I loved getting out of a pool and sitting in there with my friends, when I was younger. They relaxed me. Quiet, small and simple, they removed me from the fast-pace of the world around me. The record industry. The fast-talking, deal-making adults, my mom who suddenly seemed colder and less loving, and more concerned about the bottom line. Yes – I used to love saunas. But as Tad talks to me – and I honestly have no idea what he's saying now – and begins closing the door on me, I start to feel claustrophobic.

_Focus on what he's saying._

"—and to accomplish that, I'm going to have to make this room a lot hotter, a lot faster."

Something inside of me tightens. "You can't," I say, my voice small even to my own ears. "Tad – I'm dehydrated, I'm overtired, I'm coming off whatever that was that you injected me with! If you heat this room up, I'll pass out – I'll need medical attention! Then, you'll have to take me to a hospital, and I'm pretty sure they'll lock you up where you belong when they find out that you're responsible for my condition."

He laughs hysterically, maniacally – and then slams the door shut. Waves of heat wash over me. I just came out of a freezing cold pool. And now I'm in a steaming hot sauna. This is so not good for a person coming off of some kind of strange drug and no food for nearly two days.

I hear complete silence now and I wonder how long they're going to leave me in here.

I can't stay in these wet clothes. At least not all the layers. I take off the sweatshirt, so that I'm left in just a tank top. I look around. There is no way out of this sauna from in here.

My whole body aches now. My arms and legs ache from where Taylor and Tad were holding me. My head aches from hitting the wall. My muscles ache from running on the treadmill.

"Cooper," I say, as the tears roll freely down my cheeks. "Where are you?"

I look at my hands hopelessly and notice something. My ring. The ring that Angie put on my finger so I could hear them. I haven't been able to hear Cooper and Barrett or anyone for hours. Could I have switched this thing off somehow? I do tend to rub my hands together and play with my fingers when I'm nervous.

And let's face it; this whole situation's made me pretty nervous.

I immediately begin playing with the diamond – pushing on it, pulling on it, flipping it over. Until I hear it. A rumbling in my ears. Like static from a radio.

My heart flips over happily – hopefully – as I realize that I may soon be able to hear their voices again. His voice again.

"We can't go in there and just shoot the place up," I hear Barrett say.

_Yes! I can hear Barrett! It worked! It's working again!_

"Cartwright, they have guns, too. They'll shoot you; they'll shoot us all. They're crazy!" Angie says.

"Yes," Cooper says, in a voice that sounds so unlike his own. It sounds so strained. "They are crazy. Who knows what is happening to her right now – or if… if she's even alive. What I do know is that right now, they're not expecting _us_. They're not ready for us. We go in there ready to fight, we catch them by surprise… and we get her back already."

"But Cartwright, it'd be safer to try to negotiate—"

"It's been two days," he says, sounding completely on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "I'm going in there. Now."

I hear a long silence, which Barrett eventually breaks.

"Plan A then," he finally says.

I can hear commotion in my ears, and hope just swells in my heart, even as I grow dizzier and dizzier. He's coming to get me. They're all coming to save me! All I can say is – Cooper better not get himself shot.

The door opens and Tad peaks in at me. "I'm upping the temperature again – so beware, Baby. This will be good though. You'll lose weight faster."

He slams the door, drowning out the sounds of my protests.

I won't concentrate on the heat. I'll focus on the sound in my ears.

Except – it's totally silent in my ears again. Whatever Cooper's doing – whatever his Plan A is – he's being really quiet about it. Which, you know, is good, I guess, since it's a surprise attack and all.

After a couple minutes, though, I cannot help but focus on the heat. It's making it hard to breathe. My hair's practically dry from it. And my head feels like it's floating, unattached to my body. I try really hard to fill my lungs with air.

But it's just such a thick heat in here. It's like I'm breathing in an out, but getting no oxygen.

I am beginning to see stars. I steady myself against the wall and try to stay strong. It won't be much longer, I know it won't!

Suddenly noises boom in my ears like there are fireworks going off inside my body! Gunshots. Screams.

I can hear the voices of men mostly.

And I can hear fighting. Punches.

They're here. Cooper's here. He's right outside.

And the noises, the gunshots…

He has to stay safe. He's here to save me, and if he dies trying…

The room begins to sway and turn dark, just as I hear another noise – not from the microphone in my ears but from inside the room.

I think the door's opened.

I feel myself falling forward. But, I don't hit the floor. I never hit the floor.

No.

Someone catches me.

"Heather?" I hear an anxious voice say, over and over.

I know that voice. I'm safe with that voice.

I feel myself being carried out of the sauna. Cool air hits my skin and I feel myself being laid gently on the ground. Hands are on me – feeling for a pulse, saying my name, looking for a fever, for external injuries.

Why can't I open my eyes? Cooper – I can hear him. Why can't I look at his beautiful face.

He saved me.

Why can't I move my mouth? Thank him…

I can't move. I can't speak. I can't tell them I'm okay.

I finally give in, and let my world fade to black for the second time today. This time, content in the knowledge that he's nearby… that I'm safe.

Finally.


	22. Chapter 22

**Thank you EVERYONE – for the great feedback and encouragement! It's meant the world to me – and inspired me to keep on writing. Hope you enjoy! - MAC **

**Chapter 22**

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

I feel completely comfortable and safe - and dry. The last thing I remember was being soaking wet in a steaming hot sauna, a breath away from passing out and being saved.

I don't have to open my eyes to know that he did it. Cooper. He came through for me. He saved me. Once again.

_Of course. _

Did I think for a second that he wouldn't?

Feeling content, warm and safe, my eyelids flutter open and I see the image I'm completely expecting - and elated - to see. Cooper. I'm in a hospital bed, peaceful beeps signaling that my vitals seem normal, and he's about a foot away from my bed, sitting in a chair. He's fast asleep. I smile and look at him closely.

My stomach lurches at the sight of a big bandage on his forehead – and I remember hearing Barrett and Angie referring to a bad-looking head wound. They seemed to think he'd need stitches. What happened to him?

Well – I guess I can't worry over it too much. I mean, we're safe. I am almost positive – what with Cooper sleeping soundly beside me and all – that this nightmare is finally over. I feel fine. Well, almost fine. My head is kind of throbbing. And Cooper – he's here, and he seems okay.

Though he looks like he hasn't slept in a week; he's so out of it right now, so relaxed. And yet – worry lines crease his face. I really hope they're not permanent; he's so handsome! I'd hate for this case to have lasting effects on him.

The door opens to my room and I see Magda walk in. When she sees I'm awake, she opens her mouth – most likely to scream in joy – and I immediately put my finger to my mouth to shush her. She opens her mouth confusedly, and I point toward Cooper.

She nods in understanding and proceeds to tiptoe to my side. The minute she's close, her arms stretch out, bringing me into the tightest bear-hug ever.

"I was already planning your funeral," she whispers.

I laugh quietly. "Way to stay optimistic," I say.

"I was very optimistic! I even painted my fingernails with four leaf clovers and hearts and other very positive symbols. But then Cooper called us… and his voice." She shudders visibly. "Well, I thought you were dead already. Then he told us you'd been kidnapped!"

She's so emphatic and expressive while she talks, I get lost in the mystery she's talking about, as if I hadn't lived through it! I find myself wanting to say "what happened next?"

She looks back at Cooper; he's still completely out of it. Assured he's not awake, she turns back to me and looks like she's about to cry.

"We were so scared. He was so scared. I've never heard him sound like that. Ever. He could barely get the words out. And he was so mad at himself. I could tell he was beating himself up over the fact that that creep got you while you were basically under his watch."

"Technically," I correct her. "I was only under his watch when he was around to watch me. I mean, he left to go save the day, wouldn't tell me his plans or anything he was up to, and then he was the one kidnapped. He was getting all beaten, and… and I had to do something. Sure, it didn't go quite as smoothly as I hoped – but… I had to do something. He probably would've gotten himself killed," I say.

"Well, we all know you can't sit idly by when someone – especially someone you're in love with – is in danger. You never could. So I know why you got yourself all kidnapped. Cooper knows. We all know. You have some weird superwoman complex. If you could just be Lois Lane – or any damsel in distress – and let people rescue you, we'd all be better off."

I chuckle softly. How I've missed Magda's theories and assessments… how closely she reads me and how she never holds back but instead just tells me what conclusions she's come to where I'm concerned.

I look past her at Cooper, still slumped in his chair, his rhythmic breathing still indicating a deep sleep. "He looks like he hasn't slept in days," I say.

"Um… did you hit your head when you were kidnapped? Of course Cooper didn't sleep. You were in danger. Possibly mortal danger!"

"Yes, you've mentioned that," I say, rolling my eyes. "I had it totally under control, by the way."

"Uh huh."

"Well, sort of," I amend. I sigh and look into her eyes, seeing – behind all the jokes and comments – a real fear. "I'm really sorry I scared you all."

She hugs me again. "Well… I'll forgive you this time. But don't expect me to be so easy breezy next time you decide to play Superwoman."

I hug her back tightly, my way of assuring her that I'm okay.

"Your dad really wants to see you," she whispers after a heart-felt moment. She pulls back and looks at me. "I'll be right back; I'll go get him."

"No – help me up. Let me go see him. I really don't want to wake Cooper."

"You can't get out of bed," she says, her eyes wide.

_Oh god. I hadn't thought about why I was in the hospital. I assumed it was precautionary – knowing Cooper. But what if I was, like, paralyzed or in a coma for a month?_

"I can't?" I ask, my throat feeling tight and my pulse speeding up. "Why? What happened to me? Can I walk?"

"You can walk," she assures me quickly. "But you're on bed rest. Doctor's orders."

"Oh!" I say, dismissively. "Well if that's all, then help me up."

"You really don't understand the word 'orders', do you?" she asks, putting a hand on my back to help me along – super quietly, so as to not wake up Cooper, who's beginning to quietly snore – which he only does when he's completely overly tired.

A few minutes later, I am walking into the waiting room. I spot my dad – sitting in a chair, his head down, his brow furrowed, like he's deep in thought.

"Mr. Wells!" Magda shouts happily. He looks up and when his eyes fall on me, they light up. Really light up. He's elated to see me… and it just makes my heart swell.

He runs to me, and pulls me into a warm, sturdy hug. I fold myself in his embrace and take in all his familiar smells, while he puts a hand in my hair.

"You had us scared stiff," he whispers.

I look up at him. "Surely, the doctor would've told you I was okay," I say, confused.

"Oh yes. The doctor said you were completely dehydrated, had a weird drug in your system, had some bruises all over you and that you'd most likely be unconscious for hours."

I sigh. Added up like that, it did sound kind of bad. I can see why he looked so worried when I walked into the room.

"We knew that you were okay overall," he says, relief evident in his voice. "But before Cooper found you, we knew nothing."

"I'm so sorry, Dad. I really didn't mean for everything to get so out of hand. I guess I really wasn't thinking about how wrong it could all go. I just wanted Cooper—"

"I don't know what that cop was thinking, going along with your plan."

"I was so sure, dad… _so _sure… that Tad was unstable enough that all I had to do was get Cooper free and play his little game, let him think we were dating, and I'd get the upper hand. I just wasn't counting on how scary he'd be once we were one-on-one."

"Please tell me that your detective days are over."

I just smile up at him. I can't make that promise. He knows that. "I will be smarter in the future – overall."

He sighs. "I had so much lost time with you – all those years that I was barely there, and then when I was in jail… I have you in my life now and I really can't go back to a life without you."

I wrap my arms around him tightly. "I'll stay safe," I say. I immediately realize – probably at the same moment as him, that such a promise really can't be made. So I say "I'll be careful," and squeeze him tighter.

"Your mom called and sent her concerns. She wants you to call her when you're out of the hospital."

I roll my eyes. I really never would've thought in a million years that my dad would be the parent that I would cling to after a life-threatening situation.

"What are you doing out here?" I hear a voice behind me say.

I know that voice.

I turn around and my eyes meet the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen. At the sight of his eyes, my own fill up with tears. In Tad's lair, I had begun to think I'd never see Cooper again. And here he is – just feet away from me. Gazing into my eyes. Handsome as ever.

"You're awake," I say, forcing the lump out of my throat.

He walks up to me, never taking his eyes off mine for a moment – seeming to check me over in a way, to make sure I'm really here. "You stole the words right out of my mouth. By the way, thanks for leaving the room you were ordered to stay in. It was great to wake up and see that you were missing… _again_," he says.

"I just took a little walk to see my dad," I say, defensively. I cross my arms. "Nice to see you too," I add.

His mouth twitches so quickly, I'm not sure it even moved. And I can't tell if he nearly smiled or nearly frowned. But… I just woke up from being unconscious following a big, messy, not to mention _emotional_ ordeal. I really don't need to deal with attitude from Cooper.

He looks briefly at my dad then back at me.

"Your room. Now," he says.

"But I'm not done talking to—"

"—yes you are," my dad interjects, like he's in on some joke. He kisses my forehead. "Go and rest."

I frown at my dad and turn on my heel, stalking away from Cooper and back toward my room. How can he have the nerve to come and track me down in the hallway and then immediately begin spouting out orders without even giving me a hug? After the two days I've had, it's just wrong. Wrong!

I mean, the last time we talked on the microphone, he told me – more or less – that he loved me! And now it's back to normal – him treating me like some kind of fragile, breakable doll, some kid sister type – I mean, seriously, he just ordered me to go to my room! And I'm stuck pining for him, wishing when he yells at me that he'd just hug me instead. Or better yet, kiss me!

I get back into my room and turn to close the door, surprised to see that he's here. Cooper, I mean; he's beside me. I guess my angry thoughts were so loud, I didn't even hear him walking behind me in the hall.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. "I followed your orders, I'm in my room. You don't have to make sure I'm obeying or babysit me."

"Well, I had to make sure on your walk over that you didn't see some dark stairwell with a dead nurse and run off to investigate at your own risk and come head to head with a deranged doctor… or something," he says quickly.

I want to snap at him, to tell him that I've been through a lot, and it's been a long couple of days, and to just get off my case. But… I honestly don't have the energy. The idea that it's back to status quo for us takes any energy that I had left and just zaps it right out of me. It makes my heart ache and, since my sight is suddenly blurry, I realize that it also makes my eyes well up.

It makes me sad. Downright sad.

I turn away from Cooper, swallowing my feelings as best I can, and go back toward my bed. I reluctantly climb back in and get under the covers. Once settled in, I look at Cooper.

"I'm not going to make any trouble, Coop. So… you can just go. I'm okay," I say, my quivering voice betraying me to Cooper – only because he notices _everything._

He stares at me for a long moment – his expression impenetrable – and then finally he releases a long, quivering breath. Then he's walking toward me, and I begin to see the hardness fall away and a much more vulnerable expression take its place.

"Are you?" he asks, quietly, when he's by my bed.

"Huh?" I say, very eloquently I might add.

"_Okay_," he says. He closes his eyes for an instant, then looks into my eyes. "Are you okay?"

In a second it all makes sense. His overbearing behavior, the fact that he seems kind of on-edge, the fact that he freaked out that he woke up to me not being in my hospital room, and why he didn't hug me when he saw me.

He's still worried. Even though I'm here, and I'm clearly okay, he's worried. I can see it all over his face.

"I'm okay," I say. "Really. _I am_."

He shakes his head and sighs. "Heather, when we found you, you were soaking wet, in a room that was hotter than hell, you were unconscious, you had bruises on your arms and legs and a bump the size of an egg on the back of your head. Not to mention the fact that once you got here, the doctors said you hadn't had food in two days and had a drug with a really long, strange name in your system that they had to get out of you."

I listen and my heart lurches. This whole thing has just been awful for him. And he's still completely breaking down over it… and no doubt blaming himself for it. Just like he did all those years ago.

"I'm not sure what happened," he continues, "but you switched off your microphone that allowed you to hear us anymore when you walked into the house. We tried to ask you a couple questions and prompt you to answer by coughing, but you didn't. And we knew. Thank god you didn't touch the other one, because I got your clues about the bear head and floorboard. And we heard you talk about the moving book shelf and _Moby Dick. _We heard enough to know where you were and how to get to you once we got there." He puts a hand through his hair and clenches his jaw. "But once you got into that back room where all the gym equipment was, we lost the microphone that allowed us to hear you anymore."

I had known there'd been a broken connection. My whole Save Me crew had just gone radio silent on me. I mean, of course there had been a technical problem, or I'd pressed the diamond ring accidentally or something.

"Our men that had gone after you guys in the tunnels were heading in the opposite direction," he explains. "Tad and his cronies had carved out the most intricate and long route to that house – underground. Barrett and I were heading in the opposite direction of New Jersey. We thought they were going North with you, based on what the underground guys were saying. So when you gave those clues… I was over an hour away from you."

"I'm really sorry, Coop," I say lamely. "You must've been nervous—"

"Nervous," he says, with a small, humorless laugh. "I had no idea what was happening to you." He stares at me for a long, painful moment. "So please tell me. From the time that you got into that room until the moment you passed out – what happened?"

I sigh. If I go through the whole thing, he's just going to get more upset. "What does it matter, Coop? As you can see, I'm fine."

"You're alive, you're breathing, you look okay overall – considering," he says. "But… I have no idea if you're really _okay. _And it does matter. It matters to me."

"Well, don't worry," I say, trying so hard to reassure him. I can see it's not working and that he's still worrying. "It all sounds a lot worse than it really was. The bruises are nothing – Taylor and Angel and that other guy grabbed my arms and legs so they could carry me into the sauna after I'd gotten out of the pool – because, you know, I'd refused to do ten laps after doing ten minutes on the treadmill, so I got out of the pool in kind of a bad mood, because the whole thing just reminded me of that poor guy that Tad drowned at Fitness World – and they had sort of vice-like grips on me, Angel, Taylor and that other guy, I mean, hence the bruises. And then instead of nicely _placing_ me in the sauna, they sort of threw me in, and I hit my head on the wall. I passed out because of everything put together, I'm sure. It wasn't, like, because of any weird or violent misconduct. I promise. And that's basically it," I finish.

I try to look at him in a way that says "that was _so _nothing, right?"

But he just clenches his jaw and shakes his head again, looking at some invisible space between himself and me. Then, finally, he looks back up at me. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. About everything. That they got their hands on you, that you went through any of that—"

"Coop, stop, _please_. If you're just going to sit around focusing on the fact that they got me for a little while, and _not_ focus on the fact that you saved my life… again… well, then, I don't really want to have you as company. You see – from where I'm sitting, it could've been a lot worse. From where I'm sitting, this whole thing could've gone on for so much longer. But it's over _now. _And I'm okay. And you saved me like I knew you would. So I apologize that I won't join your pity party, but I am not going to think of you as anything other than the guy who saved me – the guy I _knew _would save me. Ever. Okay? So… there."

I cross my arms stubbornly, and after a long moment, he laughs. Not a lot – but I can see the smile go to his eyes, and it's just the best sight to see.

"You do seem like you're okay," he says finally, relief evident in his expression.

"I told you."

Looking like a major weight has been lifted from him, he sits down on the edge of my bed. "Just so you know, these have been the worst couple days of my life," he says. And while his voice seems less intense than it was before, I can hear the seriousness in his words.

Without even thinking about it, I reach up and brush a dark, reckless curl off his forehead gently. "It's really over now… right?" I ask.

I pull my hand away from his face and place it in my lap with my other hand, willing myself not to make any more automatic gestures that could be construed as romantic. After all – we're back to Cooper and Heather: Platonic Friends for Life. Status Quo.

At least I think we are.

"It's over," Cooper verifies. "They're all in jail awaiting trial – and they will go to jail for a long time after the trial, I can promise you that."

I wince. "Do I have to testify at this trial?"

"Yes," he says. "Don't worry. You'll be safe. This time, I really can promise you that. And anyway, it's not like you'll be alone."

I smile at him. "I have a sneaking feeling that you will be there with bells on."

"You've got that right. The trial's really a formality; they were caught in the act by multiple officers. They're going away – and I am going to be there to see it with my own two eyes," he says.

"You know, I can't believe you didn't knock Tad out when you found us," I say to him, resting my head back on the pillow, suddenly tired, which is weird because, you know, I'd just woken up like fifteen minutes ago.

"Yeah, well, I probably would've if I wasn't desperately trying to figure out where you were and if you were okay. We had some other officers with us – they got to take care of all of them. I barely got to look at Tad."

"Probably best," I say.

"Probably."

I yawn and smile at him sleepily.

He looks at me for a long moment and smiles softly. "You should rest," he finally says.

"Where are you going to go?"

"I could use a little rest myself," he says. "And a shower," he adds.

At that thought, my cheeks flush as I automatically think of Cooper in the shower. I sensor myself enough to keep the thought PG-13. But I still picture him all shirtless and wet, which causes my cheeks to turn a sweet shade of crimson, I'm sure. I shake the image out of my head and look at him. He's watching me closely, smirking slightly like he's thinking about something kind of amusing.

"Um," I say, before clearing my throat. "I think that's a good idea. The nap, I mean. You looked pretty out of it before. You know, when I woke up."

"I feel like I haven't slept in weeks," he says, running a hand through his hair.

"I think you should definitely go home, then. And… and sleep."

He smiles at me softly. "I'm not going home until your room is fixed."

"Ah, right – the broken window and fire-damaged bedroom. Well, where will you go?"

"Believe it or not, my parents' house. We're just down the street from there right now," he says.

I'm shocked when I hear him say he's willingly going there, but… then I think about how nice his mother was to us when we went there to hide out. How nice she was to me. And how estranged they've been. And I feel happy he's going there. Really happy.

I smile. "I'll see you later," I say.

He moves forward a fraction of an inch and then stops himself. He looks at me closely. And then he moves forward again, swiftly, and kisses my forehead. He lingers a moment too long for a friendly kiss – not that I mind. My stomach does Olympic-worthy flip flops.

And then he pulls back and looks at me.

"See you later."

I stare at the door when he's gone, thinking about what Cooper had just done. He kissed my forehead. Sure, it was sweet and made me feel great, and warm, loved and safe.

But… it was my forehead. Not my lips. Basically, it was a kiss of friendship – with an extra moment in there borne from the fact that we'd both been through hell and had come out alive and safe.

At that thought, though, I smile. I'm alive and safe. Tad's gone – a horrible memory of something safely in my past now. And I have a great family. Magda, my father – they're right outside. Caring. They're here. And Cooper. He's my best friend in the world. And he's safe too. And he just kissed me. And he told me he's not going home until my bedroom is fixed.

How sweet is that?

Wrapped in warm and fuzzy feelings, I fall asleep.

The next day, I walk into the Cartwright mansion for the second time this week – though this time I'm not sporting pink Superman pajamas and scared for my life. Magda is holding my arm, acting as if I can't walk without assistance, even though the doctor said, right in front of her, that I was completely healthy and good to leave.

Mrs. Cartwright was at the hospital this afternoon to pick me up, and she's been even nicer to me than she was a couple of days ago. Probably because I am so pathetic-looking now. I'd actually lost seven and a half pounds during my ordeal with Tad. My hair's looking stringy as ever, since I haven't been able to use a decent conditioner in days. My skin is still pretty pale. And I keep jumping at every little thing – like on the car ride home, when a car beeped a half a block away and I gasped as if someone had shot a gun inches from my face.

I really am okay… but I guess this whole thing has unnerved me a little more than I originally thought. I think that's normal.

But ever since yesterday, the whole Cartwright clan has been overly nice to me. Even Mr. Cartwright came by this morning with a bouquet of flowers, saying he hoped I made a speedy recovery and that I was always welcome at their house. Jordan came by to tell me he was sorry he helped to put me into danger; and that he – and Tania – hoped I was okay. The only person in the Cartwright family I hadn't seen all day was the only one I really wanted to see.

"Where's Cooper?" I ask Mrs. Cartwright, folding my arms nervously across my chest.

She touches my arm gently and smiles. "There was something he had to do this morning."

She goes to get me some chamomile tea, telling me it'll relax and soothe me.

Madga and I walk to the living room and sit down.

"This place is huge," she says, throwing a blanket on me. I can't believe you used to party here when you were a kid! You really lived it up!"

"Oh yeah, I really lived it up. I was forced to leave my childhood behind, I had my mom begin to love what I could bring her more than she loved me, she eventually robbed and left me, I came into this house and felt incredibly unwelcome by Jordan's parents and management, I got a scary stalker – twice – and when I lost all my fame, my fiancée cheated on me with someone else who still had 'it' going on."

"Well when you put it that way," she says.

I laugh, and pull the blanket up over my chest. "It all worked out. If none of that had happened, I wouldn't be who I am."

"Well I, for one, love who you are," she says. "Even though part of what got you here was quite unpleasant."

"Thanks, Mags," I say, pulling her into a hug.

When Magda leaves, I sit with my tea looking around the huge house that held so many memories for me.

The best memory of this place, though, by far, is the night I met Cooper Cartwright. We reminisced about it the other day and I didn't let myself really relive it. I was so concerned about his new plan to catch Tad.

But right now – I remember butterflies in my stomach when my eyes locked with his. And I remember feeling really confused. Why would I have butterflies when meeting Jordan's brother when Jordan was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with?

I had no idea at the time. In fact, I had no idea until this moment – as I'm thinking about it. I can see the whole memory cast in a whole new light now.

That night I fell in love. Just not with Jordan.

"Earth to Heather."

I look up and see that Cooper is standing on the other side of the room from where I was zoning out.

"Hi," I say, smiling. "Where are you coming from?"

"Our house," he says – which makes my heart rate speed up – his choice of words. "I, uh… I just wanted to make sure they were moving along so we could get back there quickly. Where are you just coming from?" he asks.

He walks deeper into the room and squats down in front of me.

"The hospital. Where else?"

"I meant just now. You looked like you were miles away."

"Oh… um… the night we met," I admit.

He smiles. "You know, it rained that night."

"I remember. Your hair was all wet when you came home for dinner."

"And you jumped at the sound of lightning. You still do that sometimes – during bad storms."

"I want you to know," I begin, before stopping and biting my lip nervously. I put a piece of hair behind my ear and look into his eyes. "That night – meeting you – it changed my life."

He takes my tea out of my hands and holds them – my hands I mean. "Likewise," he says.

After a couple long, interminable moments, I look away. "So… how is the room coming along?"

"It'll take about a week," he says.

"A week? Coop, you don't have to stay here for a week. I mean, your room's okay. You can go there and then I'll come when it's ready—"

I see him bend his head and shake it. He looks back up at me. "You know, I never minded living alone, Heather. I kind of loved it, actually. I would come and go as I pleased, watch anything I wanted, eat whatever I wanted… I didn't have a care in the world."

My heart speeds up – again – because I kind of feel like he's getting ready to evict me. Sounds like he really enjoyed his freedom before I came and moved in. Right?

"Then you came along."

"Do you want me to leave?" I ask, my voice small even to my own ears.

He laughs. "I want you to listen. Really listen," he says.

"Um… okay," I say, unsure of what I'm listening for. All I've heard him say so far is that he was pretty darn happy on his own.

"Before you moved in, I used to stay out late. Really late. My house was the place where I slept and kept my stuff."

He looks down at our joined hands and begins running his thumb smoothly over the skin on my hand.

"It was almost instantaneous, what happened when you moved in. I don't remember the change happening, I just know that I loved coming home. I loved buying takeout for two – for us – and listening to jazz together. I loved having Lucy jump on me and lick me when I walked in the door. And I loved falling asleep listening to the soft sound of a guitar playing the most beautiful music."

I feel my eyes fill with tears and I smile at him.

"You made my house into a home so quickly, I didn't even notice the change… until you started dating Tad. You weren't home as much, and instead of feeling the same way I'd felt before you even moved in, I felt this huge emptiness."

I look at him with my mouth open slightly in shock. I had never meant to make him feel empty.

"I'm sorry," I say.

"Sorry?" he asks. "I told you I wouldn't be your rebound guy," he says, his voice low. "I basically told you to date someone else, knowing that it would make me nuts if it actually happened. I don't know why I said that. But then before I could take the words back – or do something about it – you were doing it. You were dating him. And it made me so much more nuts than I thought it would."

"In the end, it made me kind of nuts too," I say, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yes, it did turn out to be a bit of a nightmare."

"A bit," I agree jokingly.

"I want to stay here until your room is fixed," he says eventually. "I don't want to go back there without you. It's… it's _our_ house. It's been that way since the second you moved in."

I pull him into a hug, and squeeze him tight. "Thank you, Coop. You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that. I mean… your house is the only place that's ever felt like home for me."

When we pull back, I see he has tears in his eyes too.

"So, does the fact that my rebound romance ended with me in the hospital mean that I need to find a new rebound guy now?"

"That sounds like a good idea," he says, inching closer to me. "I think I know someone who's interested."

"Who's that?" I ask, staring at his lips.

He stares at my lips and then lifts his eyes and looks into mine. "Me."

He bends forward and captures my lips with his. There's no pretense, no ruse – just love. His lips feel so right on mine, and as the kiss deepens, I feel his tongue touch my lips. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my hands in his hair as he leans further into me.

When he breaks the kiss, he kisses my forehead again, and my eyelids, my nose, my cheeks – every inch of my face it seems.

"I love you," he says, short of breath, in what seems like a mix of nerves and passion.

"I love you, too," I admit – feeling free as I say the words I've kept hidden for so long.

He kisses my lips again, briefly, before touching his forehead to mine. "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

"What?"

"I knew there was something about you – something special – the moment I met you."

"You've cared about me since then?" I ask, short of breath myself.

I feel him nod.

"Me too," I admit quietly. "Well if this wasn't the longest run to first base in history," I say.

He laughs. And then he holds his hand out to me and stands up.

I stand up. I take his hand.

He looks in my eyes and smiles – and I feel like I can see his soul.

I smile.

And then he leads me upstairs.


	23. Epilogue - Saving Heather Wells

**Epilogue: Saving Heather Wells**

I watch her sleeping. Breathing in and out. Safe. After the hell of the last couple days – she's here. It's over. I've got her. She's safe. And… we're in love.

It's… been a journey. To say the least. And I mean the whole thing's been a journey, the whole Heather Wells experience. I think you could say that Heather Wells crashed into my life like a meteor. It's all been one unpredictable, life-changing adventure.

She breathes deeply, sleeps soundly. And my mind wanders…

The first time I saw her, I knew she was trouble.

It was a typical day. I came home for dinner because my mother asked me to. I didn't care too much to see Jordan or my father – always talking about Jordan's career and my own lack of interest in the "family business." Not exactly my idea of a good time. But… sometimes it's hard saying no to my mom.

I walked in the front door and noticed a girl - well, a young woman - staring out the window at the rain pouring down. She was clad in what seemed like a cheaply-made glitter top and a short jean skirt, her hair teased and tormented until it took on some faux-popular 'do. She looked like she was trying too hard and I rolled my eyes, realizing instantly that my dad had once again invited the newest act for the label to dinner at our house - to meet the family. I really was not eager to impress a stranger.

A crack of thunder made her jump and she turned around and noticed me standing there and jumped again. She smiled and attempted to look cool and confident, but I could see her nervousness, her insecurities, rolling off her in waves. She walked toward me, her hand outstretched the entire time, to introduce herself, and something inside of me shifted. Forgetting my earlier annoyance, I tried to make her feel welcome. I suddenly was acting the way my father always wanted me to act- being nice to the "up and coming stars." But I didn't even care. It was like right then, I felt protective of _this_ girl. She was clearly out of her element. And for some reason, I wanted to help her feel okay.

The feeling never went away. It has just intensified little by little, year after year.

She was nervous during dinner, seemed to find my jokes funny while they just annoyed everyone else – her boyfriend included. She seemed self-conscious and unsure about herself as a star… and too young for Jordan. And I knew he liked her. I watched him stare at her like he had just found his latest conquest.

I will not be so presumptuous to say that I fell in love that day or anything like that. My god, she was just a kid! All I know is that… when I left my parents' house that day, I thought about her on my drive home. I laughed at some joke she'd made at the table that no one had gotten. And I worried that my brother would probably win her heart... and then break it. Someday.

We became friends pretty quickly. Somewhere between then and now – at some fuzzy time frame that includes us laughing and bantering, and talking into the night about life and its inherent craziness – I fell for her.

I glance down again when she makes a noise that gets my attention. But she doesn't wake. She stirs, and then her features clear and she takes a deep breath. Once again, my mind flashes back…

The first time we ever fought was a bit of a wake up call for me. It scared the hell out of me, in fact. I mean – I didn't need to be fighting with my brother's girlfriend. After all, I was hearing enough female chirping in my ears from the girls I chose to hear it from – the ones I was dating.

In fact, the first time I ever fought with Heather was in front of a girl I was dating. Lara. My college sweetheart.

I brought her home and Heather and Jordan were there. Everyone met, and it seemed fine. Until about two hours later. We were all hanging out.

Heather and Lara sat side-by-side – and somehow, at some point – something fell off kilter in my perfect relationship. Lara looked like a magazine cut-out complete with a carved-out personality from the pages of Vogue. She was brilliant. I loved that about her. She matched me in every subject, and could've been a bona fide rocket scientist she was so smart.

Beside her, Heather was far from perfect. Insecure. Too jokey. Too silly. She made mistakes, said too much, ate whatever she wanted, despite what her contract said - thankfully. She was human. She got under my skin sometimes, too.

Her insistence that night that at 17 she could have one beer - and Jordan's happy compliance with the request, for example - got under my skin.

"You act like a cop, Coop," Heather said that night, batting my hand away as I tried to take the drink away from her. "Or worse - a big brother."

"I just have no desire to sit around, having a drink with a minor - a baby - a 17 year old _pop star,_" I shot back. I've always done that; whenever Heather got under my skin I got too heated, and said things. Mean things.

She looked kind of wounded at my words. And why not? We'd been friends for two years. When I was with her, I didn't think of her or talk to her like she was some kid. She was my friend - but just _younger._

She took a sip of the beer, and just looked at me - a challenging expression on her face. One I have seen quite a lot over the years. It's actually an expression I love. It's the fighter in her, the stubborn woman... the girl who can do anything she sets her mind to. And on that night, she set her mind to being a stupid teenager. And it grated on my nerves.

I sighed, shook my head at her, and walked away with Lara, hand-in-hand.

"Coop, you're getting all worked up over nothing," Lara said. "They're teens. You probably did the same thing when you were their age."

I sat down at my parents' kitchen table and looked at Lara, shaking my head. "His age, maybe. But she's seventeen."

"I had a drink or two when I was seventeen," Lara confessed with a shrug. "It's fine."

She was right. I knew she was right. But I still wanted to snatch the drink from Heather, and put her somewhere where she couldn't get her hands on any alcohol. And not let her out until she was 21.

It was irrational. Completely irrational. I didn't understand it. More importantly, I didn't like it. I reasoned that I was merely being the big brother Heather never had. But... something about that categorizing didn't feel right.

"Anyway, your brother seems to have her under control," Lara said. "I don't know about you, but I'd much rather hang out with, you know, people _our _age tonight. I think I've had enough of pop stars, teenage rebellion, underage drinking - you name it," she said, laughing and rolling her eyes. Clearly wanting to completely dismiss Heather and Jordan and be somewhere more worthwhile.

I squeezed her hand and agreed it was time to leave. I told myself that it was not my job to look out for Heather. She had her mom and Jordan - hell, even the record label. I glanced once more at her, sitting there definitely getting tipsy quickly. Something tightened in my stomach - something that felt like a touch of anxiety. It was fleeting and then replaced once again by my annoyance. She met my eyes and smiled - a big infectious grin that normally had the power to elicit a smile from me in return. She held her beer up in a silent toast.

She was mocking me.

I narrowed my eyes and turned on my heel, leaving without saying goodbye, hand-in-hand with Lara.

I seethed for the rest of the night - even while Lara and I hung out with some very good friends. And that just annoyed me. No _kid _was going to have this kind of control over my emotions. It wasn't right, it didn't make sense... and it was making me crazy.

I decided that I had seen far too much of Jordan and Heather lately and it was high time for a nice, long break from the duo. Maybe being friends with pop stars was not for me. Even ones that were normally funny and... _real. _

That was that. We had a very small fight. Barely. But it resulted in my not speaking to her or visiting for nearly two months.

My mother called me over for dinner one night - and even though I didn't want to go, I did. Again, it was hard to say no to my mother. I had hoped that Heather would not be there.

I look down at her now, and watch her breathe in. In. Out.

_Safe. _Thank god.

So I went to dinner that night. I watched our maid set the table, watched my mom call a caterer about a party she was hosting in a week - busied myself doing anything except interacting with Jordan and Heather, who I was told were hanging out in the sun room.

It was juvenile of me. To think this had all started because of how immature I had found Heather to be on _one _night in the two years I'd known her - and here I was doing a move mastered by third graders across the country - avoiding and ignoring her.

I couldn't even explain it. I just... that night, when I walked out with Lara, I had decided that I needed to focus on my relationship. On college. On people my own age. I needed to distance myself from my incredibly annoying family. And I needed to take a step back from Heather. I just decided not to care so much. And I knew to keep it up, I had to avoid her. I was getting pretty good at it.

"Honey, would you tell Jordan and Heather that dinner is being served?" my mom asked me.

I nodded and headed to the sun room. Just as I approached, I was stopped in my tracks by a sound I'd never heard before. Heather. Crying.

"I already told you, babe," Jordan said, sounding like the lead from a soap opera. "I'm not going to let him near you."

I squinted my eyes. Who was he talking about? Let who near her?

"Jordan," she said, sniffling, her voice quivering a bit. "This guy won't go away. I've received letters before. So have you!" she said. "But this one guy... he writes about things I do in my personal time. He has close up photos. He is doctoring pictures of me... bad pictures," she added, her voice failing a bit.

I knew I should have shown my face already - told them to come to dinner. But I was rooted to the spot. Heather was being stalked?

Why hadn't anyone told me? Why was I getting phone calls from my mom about the sales of Jordan's latest single and updates about the latest gossip rags touting Heather and Jordan's whereabouts, but not a peep about this?

"And now - it's all threats. Really awful threats. About touching me. About hurting me. Killing me even! I... _I..."_

She didn't finish her thought. She burst out crying, and I waited a few more moments, before turning around and walking right back into the kitchen.

"What's going on with Heather?" I demanded to my mother.

She hung up the phone and looked at me confused. "What do you mean?" she asked. "She is eating too much," she said. "If that's what you're talking about. Her mom is trying to talk to her about that. She doesn't want her to lose her contract."

My eyebrows shot up at that. Was she serious? "Let her eat what she wants," I said, frustrated. See, this was _exactly _why I hated the family business... and the family half the time as well. "That is not what I was talking about," I said after a moment. "Is Heather being stalked?"

"Oh, that!" my mom said, recognition clearing her expression. "Yes, she is."

I waited - only she didn't say anything more.

"What do you know about it?" I finally asked.

"Um, let me see," she said, gazing skyward. "He's been writing for about a month. About a letter every three or four days. He knows a lot about her. He seems to follow her around. He has pictures of her doing private things... getting her hair done one day, getting a manicure another day... going to singing lessons..."

I shoved my hands in my pockets and clenched my jaw – anger coursing through me.

"What is being done about it?" I finally managed.

"Well, dad and Heather's mom both agree that we should leverage this for some good PR for her. Really play up the victim angle. People love that. And honestly, she's hit a bit of a rut lately. Her career could really use the boost."

My mouth fell open and I was honestly at a complete loss for words.

I suddenly felt sick. I had turned my back on her, because I didn't want to be bothered anymore with worrying about her, looking out for her... But in that moment I realized, no one looked out for her. _N__o one_. Not her greedy mother, not my stupid brother, and most definitely not my family or the label.

Before I could say anything more, Jordan walked in - happy as a clam. And that just annoyed me.

"Heather will be here in a few," he explained. "She's just freshening up. Hey bro."

I said nothing and left the room - heading towards the sun room again.

Heather was heading out of the room and I could see the evidence from her cry. Her cheeks were red, her eyes were bleary and she just... didn't look herself.

When she saw me, she stopped in her tracks, a look of surprise on her face. "Hi, Coop," she said. And then she smiled. I knew it was a real smile too.

This time, I did smile in return as I took a few more steps in her direction. "Hey," I said. I looked at her closely. "Everything okay?"

She nodded and put on a brave face. "Yes," she said. She seemed to study me as well. "How's school? How's Lara?"

Something tightened inside. If I hadn't put up such a wall, perhaps she would have confided in me. But it didn't matter. My days of pushing her away were over. I knew that with certainty.

"Good," I simply answered.

"Listen, Cooper, I'm really sorry," she said quietly. "About that night, I mean. I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay," I said, cutting her off quickly. I really couldn't stand the idea of her apologizing to me with everything she had going on. "I'm sorry too," I added. Because I was. I was honestly really sorry.

After that, it was all a big roller coaster.

Investigating her stalker inspired me to become a private investigator. The cases were interesting - although that first case was terrifying. Because of my pig-headedness, Heather's stalker very nearly kidnapped her after a concert... and he did manage to cop a feel and cause her to break - really break - in Barrett's office afterward, which nearly destroyed me.

Life seemed to whiz by, and our friendship got stronger and stronger.

Heather and Jordan stayed together far longer than I ever thought they would. And while that annoyed me - because amazingly my brother only got progressively more annoying with time - I was true to my promise to myself and became an unwavering friend to Heather.

As she got older and could legally enjoy a drink with me, I stopped thinking of her as a kid or a pop star. She progressively moved from friend to good friend - and eventually to best friend. Her ability to crack me up was more constant the closer we got.

No matter how much time passed by, she never bought into the glitz and the glamour of her career. She was real and cool - and I found that I liked spending time with her – probably liked it more than I should have. When I was honest with myself back then - when she was in her early 20's - I knew I liked her. I held a bit of a candle for my little brother's girlfriend. And that really drove me nuts. It was not what I needed or wanted. But... I couldn't deny that it was the case.

When they got engaged, something old sparked inside of me. Something like I'd felt that night so long ago. I felt annoyed at her. Angry. Confused. And torn. I felt like I would be better off if I turned my back on our friendship.

But... I couldn't. Not again. So I didn't.

I threw myself into work. And into dating different girls. No one ever seemed right.

And one day, I got the call that changed it all. They'd broken up.

Heather moved out. The engagement was off. And she needed a place to live. That moment changed the course of my whole life.

I lay down now and stare at her.

I couldn't tell you when I fell in love with her. I really don't know. It was a slow burn. What we had for so many years was a friendship unlike any other I'd ever had. I felt a need to protect her that confused me - and drove so many of my actions in our relationship. But it truly was platonic.

And yet... when she got engaged, I was miserable. And when it was over, I felt something akin to hope. And definite happiness.

I knew I liked her for a long time. But love? I honestly have no idea when it happened. But I remember clear as day when I realized that I loved her and couldn't live without her.

I shudder now just thinking about it. About how my stupidity very nearly almost cost her her life.

I told her that I couldn't be her rebound guy. I basically pushed her to date someone else. So she did. When she first started disappearing for dates, I was frustrated and irritated. At her. At myself. At this _man. _At the thoughts in my head about what they were doing in their spare time...

I squeeze my eyes shut. I hated that. I couldn't turn the thoughts off and they nearly drove me mad. Oh, I knew I was jealous all right. And I knew I was to blame for all of it. But I hoped that she'd be free again soon. And then... _then _I wouldn't miss my chance. I wouldn't be a total idiot. I'd immediately ask her out. I'd make sure that we got the chance we deserved. I just knew we'd be great together...

And then an old demon came back to life. Her stalker was back and more threatening than before. He took a man's life!

These last few days have honestly been insane. This is all a blur, but just the thought of all that transpired causes my blood to run cold. Even now, I have to wrap my arms around her and remind myself that she is safe and alive. And with me.

The moment I realized that I loved Heather was when she was lying in my bed just a few days ago, looking up at me with those big blue eyes of hers. I had asked her to sleep with me, rather than on the couch. I knew she was just as wired with nerves as I was. I knew the only way we could get any sleep was if she was next to me.

After she climbed into bed and pulled the covers up, she just stared up at me. In her pink Superman pajamas, her hair in a messy ponytail, no makeup on - she looked the exact opposite of the girl I first met all those years ago. She was not trying to be anything with me. She was my best friend. My roommate. And I knew she felt safe with me. She looked vulnerable and honest looking up at me and my heart told me clearly a message I had been ignoring for so long. I absolutely was in love with her.

I couldn't let anything happen to her. I wouldn't let anything-

Except Heather, being stubborn pigheaded Heather, didn't give me the chance to really protect her, did she? No. She went and got herself kidnapped to ensure that I was safely freed.

She had no idea. I had never told her. She didn't know that I was so far gone over her - so in love - that when she traded herself for me, I nearly died. When I saw that van drive off, I swear my heart almost stopped.

I was ready to kill Barrett, Angie, Jordan - _everyone _who helped her achieve her plan.

When he drugged her, I waited for hours for some kind of response from her. But I got nothing. And then our men tracking them lost them. I was panicking, with no idea if she was okay - and no idea where she was going. I honestly let myself come to terms with the fact that I'd messed up again with this stalker. Only this time she had no bodyguards to help her after my screw-up. She was gone for good. I really thought that. I really thought that I would never see her again. I thought she would never know how I felt. I promised myself that if I ever got to talk to her again I would just tell her. Even if it was just over the microphone. I would tell her everything. All of it.

After seven hours, I laid down. I allowed the paramedics to stitch the gash on my head. They told me my blood pressure was through the roof, that I was having an anxiety attack, that I needed medicine. Help. I ignored them and just lay there staring at the ceiling. Waiting. Praying. At some point, I guess I dozed.

Thirty minutes later, Jerry, Angie's boyfriend and partner, was shaking me awake, saying Heather was awake, asking for me. I ran back into Barrett's trailer as fast as I could.

I wasn't sure she believed my confession of love. I spoke with truth, quietly, hating that it had to be like this. But at least I had told her the truth. I prayed I would get the chance to see her. Because then she wouldn't be able to question my feelings.

This was as close a call as we've ever had. Thank god I got there when I did.

When we charged in on the scene, the officers were quickly able to take care of the anti-fan club. I briefly registered that someone had punched Tad and was cuffing him. But I couldn't even bring myself to care. I couldn't see her. I could hear Angie yelling at Tad's crew – demanding to know where Heather was. My heart was in my throat when I saw it. The sauna. I ran as fast as I could until I was staring at a door had a digital temperature on it that read _201 F. _

"Oh my god," I said over and over as I busted the lock and broke open the door. She collapsed into my arms, completely out cold. I carried her out into the main room and paramedics rushed to her. I took a step back, registering bruises, a huge bump on the head and the fact that even smelling salts didn't bring her to.

Yes, this has been a nightmare. But it's over now.

The whole Heather Wells experience has been a ride. Looking at her, I smile. Because now we are here, together.

I've learned a lot. When it comes to Heather, I absolutely cannot push her away, deny my feelings or turn my back on her for a second.

She needs me. And I need her more than I've ever needed anything in my life.

We just make sense. She gets me. She is so completely un-perfect… and yet I wouldn't change one thing about her.

Last night, we finally crossed that line. The one that's always divided us. And I've never felt anything more _right _in my life. And I knew that it would be like that. A few days ago when we practiced kissing as part of our ruse, I felt it all then – pure electricity. Somehow I always knew kissing Heather Wells would be something entirely new… and amazing.

I run my hands along the smooth skin of her back and wake her with a kiss. I can't help it.

The more I let my mind wander down memory lane, the more I realize that last night was just our beginning. Kissing her makes me the happiest man in the world. So why not do it again? Why not do it all again…

She giggles against my mouth and puts her hands in my hair, pulling me closer to her. She boldly explores me with her hands and I laugh. She never ceases to surprise me.

Now it's my turn to surprise her.

I have a question I want – _need – _to ask her.

And this time, I won't put it off. From now on, I'll do it all the right way.


End file.
